


Confluents

by enigmaticblue



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-20
Updated: 2005-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after the events of Same Time, Same Place. Buffy realizes that she's probably left Spike in the basement for too long and hauls him out. Her attempts to get the First to stop tormenting him don't go quite as planned, however. Then again, when do spells on the Hellmouth ever work right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission of Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> I may be a minority, but I thought the First was about the lamest villain ever. How do you fight something like that? It's impossible. And besides, it's philosophically and logically insupportable that you'd have the First Evil and not a First Good of some kind. I'd give you the logical argument, but that's not the point. The point is that I'm treating the First as the S3 episode Amends treated the First—like some ghost that could be chased away by some fast talk and the light of day. I'm ignoring the rest of S7 canon pretty much. Oh, and the title is taken from a Christina Rossetti poem I thought was appropriate.

**“Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig/and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:/maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,/a cracked bell, or a torn heart…” ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet VI**

Buffy traced her path through the basement with a feeling of trepidation. She was nervous about seeing Spike again. It wasn’t really a bad kind of nervous—she wasn’t scared of Spike anymore.

The scene in the chapel had her completely wigging, of course. Watching the vampire throw himself on the cross had been horrifying. Knowing that he had gotten the soul for her was—humbling. Not knowing what else to do, Buffy had hauled him off the cross and then watched him flee into the night.

He had been down in the basement for too long already. Buffy knew she should have dragged him home immediately after finding out he had a soul. That’s what the soul meant, right? Spike got a get-out-of-jail-free card, a clean slate, a fresh start. As the Slayer, it was her job to make certain that he got it, that he was taken care of— at least to a certain extent. She’d done no less for Angel when that particular souled vampire had returned from hell, and he had done worse things to her.

Spike, after all, hadn’t killed anyone. He’d just tried to rape her.

Buffy shook her head. That wasn’t fair either. The Slayer was pretty sure that Spike hadn’t meant it. He had wanted her to admit that she felt something and had taken things too far.

It’s not like she hadn’t done the same thing.

If the truth were to be told, Buffy had left Spike in the school basement because it was easier. Life was easier when Spike wasn’t around. Maybe not better, but definitely less complicated.

It was time to be the Slayer again, though. Time to deal with the tough issues that no one else wanted to touch; time to make sure that Spike wasn’t going to hurt anyone in his crazy state. Buffy didn’t think he was a danger, but it didn’t pay to be careless.

“Spike?” she called. “Are you down here?”

Silence was the only reply she got, and then she heard him. The words were too low for her to catch, but she followed the sound to its source. Spike sat, arms around his legs, curled up into a little ball.

He looked smaller without his coat, Buffy thought upon seeing him. The coat that was currently residing under her bed. “Spike?”

“Quiet,” he muttered. “If we’re quiet they won’t bother us.”

She approached him slowly. “Who won’t bother us, Spike?”

“They won’t bother us.” He repeated it over and over again like a mantra.

Buffy swallowed hard. It hurt seeing him like this. She might not be in love with him, but there was something there, some feeling. Enough that it had hurt to have him break her trust as he had. If Buffy hadn’t had any feelings for Spike at all, his attack on her person would not have been a surprise, and she could have quickly brushed it off.

It had stung to realize how much she had trusted him.

“Spike,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. “You need to come with me.”

He skittered away from her touch, moving back into the deeper shadows. “Don’t touch! You ought not to touch!” The vampire started rocking back and forth, the back of his head hitting the wall every time he moved back. “No one ought to touch that which is unclean.”

“You’re not unclean, Spike,” Buffy tried to reassure him. He was definitely dirty. Spike had always been fairly particular about being clean. Now he smelled like a dead thing. It was the stench of an open grave.

And it broke her heart.

“Please, Spike,” Buffy said, trying again. “You have to come with me.” An idea hit her. “I need your help.”

His head snapped up, and a brief flash of lucidity passed through his eyes. “I can help?”

“That’s right,” Buffy said, feeling a sudden flare of hope. “You can help me, but you have to come with me now. It’s really important.”

He scrambled to his feet, trying to smooth out his clothing awkwardly. “Okay.”

Buffy wished she’d known the magic words a little earlier. Spike was pathetically eager to give his aid. He was acting like a whipped puppy, eager for more attention.

She always hated how Spike made her feel, even when he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Buffy reached out to take his hand to lead him, but he shoved both hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t touch. It’s not allowed.”

“Fine,” Buffy agreed, just to placate him. “But stay close, okay?”

He followed her docilely enough, so close that she could sense him on her heels. For a moment Buffy allowed herself to remember the days and weeks right after she’d been resurrected when Spike had stayed as close as he could. Those were the days when his presence had been a comfort and a balm. What had happened?

Oh, yeah. They’d had sex.

Buffy heard his sharp indrawn breath as they passed through the front doors of the school. Spike was looking around everywhere but at her, obviously ready to bolt back inside. “You’re not going back,” she said firmly in her best General-Buffy voice. “Spike, look at me.” She waited until he’d complied. “You’re not going back.”

Spike made a sound that could only be described as a whimper. “They’ll punish me.”

“No one’s going to be punishing anybody,” Buffy replied. “I won’t allow them to.”

He didn’t look as though he believed her. “I’m bad.”

Buffy sighed, not wanting to do this. She didn’t want to be gentle; she wanted Spike to snap out of it so she could kick his ass and then make him promise not to leave. “Fine, Spike, you’re bad,” the Slayer replied. “So is pretty much everyone else I know, and no one’s punishing them. Let’s go. I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”

~~~~~

Dawn was torn. Sure she’d been all big with the threats on Spike’s unlife, but that had been when he was looking sane and in one piece. Now Buffy was bringing home crazy-but-with-a-soul Spike, who had helped the gang save Willow.

Spike, who had watched over her the summer Buffy was gone. Spike, whom she’d had a crush on. The same Spike she had loved.

In the darkest hours of the night, Dawn could admit not only that she had loved Spike, but that she still did. He had been the only thing in her world that made sense. Then he’d attacked Buffy. It was that betrayal that had hurt the worst, knowing that her anchor was just another sinkhole.

Maybe if Buffy had been a little more forthcoming with the details, Dawn would have had a better idea of how to feel about the whole thing. Instead, her sister had simply announced that she was going to collect Spike from the school basement, and that they would talk about it later.

“Where are they?” Dawn asked Willow, who was trying very hard to appear calm and collected. Willow had to admit that she was also a little nervous about seeing Spike. He’d been acting really strange the last time she’d seen him.

The witch looked over at her. “I’m sure Buffy’s on her way back.”

“What if she’s not?” Dawn demanded. “What if Spike tries to hurt her or something?”

Willow bit her lip. “Spike wouldn’t try anything, Dawnie. Buffy said he has a soul now.”

Dawn wasn’t sure what all this talk about a soul was. Everyone made a big deal about the soul. Angel had a soul, and that was the only thing holding him back. Well, so what? Just because Spike had a soul didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt Buffy.

“So what?” Dawn said, the thoughts too big for her head to hold. “It’s not like people with souls don’t do really horrible things.”

She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth, of course. Willow was just beginning to get back into the swing of things, she was obviously trying very hard, and now Dawn had to rub her face in it. Willow turned bright red and went back to playing around on her laptop. “You’re right, Dawnie, but the soul does make a difference.”

Dawn might have said more, but the opening of the front door interrupted her. She dashed out into the hall to see her sister tugging a recalcitrant Spike through the door. “Don’t make me do this the hard way, Spike,” Buffy warned him. “You are not going back to the school basement.”

He looked bad and smelled worse, Dawn realized, and almost in spite of herself, she softened slightly. “Somebody’s going to have to clean him up, Buffy,” she said.

“I know,” her sister replied irritably. She glanced towards the stairs. “It’s not like we have anything for him to wear, though. It’s probably a good idea just to stick him down in the basement tonight.”

“Will he stay?” Willow asked, coming out to join them. “I mean, he looks ready to bolt.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at the vampire, who appeared as though he wanted to be anywhere but there. “I don’t know,” Buffy said reluctantly. “We could…” She stopped that thought right there. Chaining Spike up was her last resort since he wasn’t a danger to anyone else but himself.

There was a moment of silence, and then Spike announced, “Standing right here.”

His eyes reflected a glimmer of sanity. “So are you going to stay, Spike?” Buffy asked, her tone revealing her impatience. She was not used to being a nursemaid, nor did she want to put on the act.

“You said you wanted help,” he accused, looking like a sulky little boy.

To Buffy and Dawn’s surprise, Willow grabbed his arm. “We do need your help, Spike, but you can’t do much from the school basement. It’s much better if you stay here.”

Spike stared at her intently for a moment. “You know.”

Buffy frowned in confusion, but Willow understood immediately. “I do. What do you say we get you cleaned up. I’m sure Buffy wouldn’t mind getting something for you to eat.”

Spike shook his head frantically. “I don’t eat anymore. I won’t. It’s not mine to take.”

“It’s okay, Spike,” Willow soothed. “It’s just pig’s blood, and that’s okay to eat. Buffy and Dawn eat pork all the time, and that’s just the same.” She glanced at Buffy. “We’ll just go get you cleaned up.”

Speaking in a low voice, the witch managed to coax Spike up the stairs, leaving Buffy and Dawn with their mouths hanging open.

“I want details, Buffy,” Dawn said flatly. “What’s going on?”

“Dawn—”

“No,” the girl said stubbornly. “I don’t understand why you’d want Spike in our house after what he did to you.” Buffy looked away. “He did—did he do what Xander said he did?” Dawn demanded.

Buffy winced. “Not exactly,” she said uncomfortably. Xander had assumed, and then he’d told Dawn his assumptions, and Buffy had never really bothered to correct them. It had been easier. “He—it’s complicated, Dawnie.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” she said flatly. “You said Spike went and got his soul. Was it because he raped you?”

“He didn’t rape me,” Buffy replied. Glancing up the stairs, she grabbed Dawn’s arm and tugged her into the kitchen. “He was trying to make me admit that I had feelings for him.” This was why Buffy hadn’t attempted an explanation before now. It was too hard. “Look, Dawn, I told you it was complicated. I don’t know how else to explain.”

“Then explain why you’re okay with him being in the house.”

There was a challenge in her sister’s voice that Buffy couldn’t ignore. “He has a soul.”

“So what?” Dawn demanded. “What difference does the soul make, other than make him crazy?”

“He got it for me!” Buffy hissed, and there was a flash of emotion in her eyes that Dawn could read like a book. “Spike got his soul for me.”

Dawn sighed, admitting defeat in the face of her sister’s obvious distress. It was no wonder Buffy was being all weird about this—what with the whole comparison thing that neither of them could help making. Angel lost his soul and Angelus didn’t want it back. Spike went looking for his soul because he hurt the woman he loved. Dawn was the brainy one—she could do the math.

“Come on, Buffy,” she said. “Let’s get Spike’s blood. He looks like he could use a decent meal.”

~~~~~

Willow had to admit to feeling a certain sympathy with the blond vampire. She completely understood the whole guilt trip thing. If Giles and the coven hadn’t been so great, she honestly wondered if she wouldn’t have gone crazy.

If not from the guilt, then certainly from the grief.

She knew that Spike’s remorse was a hundred times heavier than her own, and Willow also knew that Buffy was probably not the best person to deal with him right now. Willow loved her friend, but the Slayer often had a hard time with the softer side of things.

Spike needed soft right now.

As they neared the door to the bathroom, Spike stopped dead in his tracks. “No,” he muttered. “I hurt the girl. I can’t—I won’t. You can’t make me!”

His voice was rising rapidly, and Willow hurried to soothe him. “It’s okay, Spike. No one’s going to make you do anything.” She tugged him towards the master bedroom, the room she had once shared with Tara. “We’ll just use a different bathroom.”

Spike shook his head. “I won’t tell. I promised I wouldn’t tell.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Willow replied. “It’s okay.”

He twisted slightly, his eyes unfocused. “Will you punish me?”

“No,” Willow replied slowly. “I’m really not in a position to punish anybody.”

Spike lowered his voice, confiding, “I wasn’t supposed to leave. They said so.”

“Who said so?”

“They did.”

Willow realized that Spike wasn’t up to explaining anything. “Okay, well, if they bug you again, you just tell Buffy or me. We’ll tell them where to get off.”

He looked skeptical, but the conversation had gotten them into Buffy’s bathroom without any more fuss. Spike started to look panicked again as he realized where he was, and Willow wondered if he had generalized his fear to all bathrooms. It would explain why he was so filthy, even just beyond the whole craziness thing.

Willow decided it was time to use her best take-charge voice. “Spike, look at me.” He glanced away, obviously uncomfortable, complying only when Willow grabbed his chin and forced his head around. “I want you to get undressed and put your clothes outside the door. Then I want you to take a shower. Can you do that?”

He nodded.

“Good.” Willow gave him a quick pat on the arm. “I’m going to find something else for you to wear.”

She shut the door behind her and then paused, feeling a chill. There was a sense of wrongness in the air, although she couldn’t define it any better than that. Willow shook it off, chalking it up to the general weirdness that was always around the Hellmouth.

Willow didn’t trust her instincts these days.

~~~~~

His ears were buzzing. All Spike could see or hear was Buffy’s voice. _No!...Ask me now why I could never trust you…_

He whimpered. Clean. He was supposed to get clean.

“You’re never going to be clean.” Spike whirled to see Buffy standing there. “You get that, right? This is never going to be over, Spike. People don’t forgive things like that.”

“No,” Spike said. “You’re not—you’re not real. You’re—”

“I’m real enough,” Buffy replied. “Oh, come on, Spike. Like I’m ever going to love you after what you’ve done. You’re a monster, and now you’re insane. What kind of woman wants something like that around?”

“No!” Spike shouted. “I won’t listen to you! You’re not real!”

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice came through the door. “What’s going on in there?”

He had turned involuntarily towards the door, and when he looked back at where Buffy had been standing, the spot was empty.

It was too much.

Spike collapsed against the wall, shaking uncontrollably. He buried his head in his arms and rocked back and forth, repeating over and over, “You’re not real.”


	2. A Madman in the Basement

**“My love, I returned from travel and sorrow/to your voice…I cannot give up your love, not without dying./So: play the waltz of the tranquil moon,/the barcarole, on the fluid guitar,/ till my head lolls, dreaming:/for all my life’s sleeplessness has woven/this shelter in the grove where your hand lives and flies,/watching over the night of the sleeping traveler.” ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet LXXX**

They heard the shouting in the kitchen. Buffy might have been concerned for Willow, but her friend was asking about finding something for Spike to wear. She was up the stairs in a flash, pounding on the bathroom door.

“Spike? What’s going on in there?” She heard Spike’s voice, but she couldn’t make out the words. Apparently he’d gotten the shouting out of his system. “Spike? Are you decent? I’m coming in.”

There was no response, and Buffy opened the door cautiously. “Spike?”

He was on the floor, in much the same posture she’d found him in the basement. “You’re not real,” Spike muttered. “You’re not real. You’re not real.”

“Of course I’m real,” Buffy said, but her tone was gentle. She knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Spike, what’s this all about?”

Her touch brought his eyes to hers. “Buffy?”

“That’s right,” she replied, pulling her hand away. “What’s going on?”

Spike shook his head. “I promised not to tell.”

“Who did you promise?”

“Them.” His voice dropped down to a whisper. “They’ll hurt me if I tell.”

“No one’s going to hurt you, Spike,” Buffy replied, wanting to add that she would if he didn’t tell her what was going on. He looked so completely wigged, however, that she didn’t want to add to his distress. She had to say that the last thing she wanted right now was to be dealing with an insane vampire who was hearing voices. “Who were you talking to?”

“You.” It was definitely not her, of that Buffy was certain. She was about to tell him that, when he added, “But you weren’t real.”

Buffy frowned. “Who else talks to you?”

“Dru,” he admitted, shrinking down into himself a little further. “And Angelus. And the others.”

She didn’t have to ask what others; Buffy thought she knew. It was a familiar story. Spike was seeing and hearing things that no one else could—things that were tormenting him, driving him crazy. The Slayer had experienced this before.

“Okay, Spike,” Buffy said quietly. “I want you to get cleaned up now.” She stood to leave, and his hand shot out to grab her wrist. He dropped it just as quickly, as though her skin had burned him.

“Please, don’t.”

Buffy was torn. She was fairly certain that to stay with him was to invite trouble. On the other hand, he looked so desperate— “I can’t stay with you.”

“Please, just—talk to me?” Spike pleaded. “If you talk to me I can’t hear them. Please?”

Buffy sighed and knelt beside him again, reaching out to touch his cheek gently. Instead of scuttling away from her touch, the vampire froze and then seemed to relax, closing his eyes. They stayed like that for a moment, and Buffy knew that she had done this.

She had broken him; therefore, she was responsible for putting him back together.

“Leave the door open,” she instructed. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

He nodded reluctantly, and Buffy withdrew, stepping into her bedroom, but leaving the door cracked behind her. She waited until she could hear the sound of the water running, and then she ran a hand over her face. It was no wonder Spike was a little crazy right now, and Buffy knew that she needed to attend to it immediately.

Otherwise, she’d have to talk yet another souled vampire out of offing himself.

~~~~~

“You want me to do what?” Willow squeaked.

Buffy sighed. “I want you to see if you can find a spell that would help protect Spike,” she explained patiently. “If Spike’s crazy because of the First, I want to be able to chase it off. It’s not going to mess with him anymore.”

Willow and Dawn exchanged looks, wondering if Buffy knew how that sounded. It reminded both of them of her adamant protection of Angel or Riley when she was dating them. Buffy really didn’t like it when the bad guys messed with her boyfriend.

“I can look, Buffy, but I don’t know if it’ll do any good,” Willow replied. “If the First can mess with Spike because he has a soul, the only way to prevent it would be to either get rid of the First or get rid of the soul.”

Buffy shook her head. “We’re not getting rid of the soul. Not that Spike needs one, but he wanted it, and he fought for it. I’m not taking that away from him.”

“Okay,” Willow said slowly. “I’ll look, but—magic?” she asked. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

“We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that, Will,” the Slayer said. “But I’m not going to bank on it.” She glanced up the stairs, hearing the water shut off. “I’d better get back up there.” Grabbing the mug of blood, she swept out of the kitchen.

Dawn raised an eyebrow. “I thought Buffy said she wasn’t in love with Spike.”

“She did say that,” Willow answered thoughtfully.

Dawn turned to the witch. “You want some help with the research?”

“Yeah,” Willow replied. “You can keep me on the straight and narrow.” She hesitated. “I thought you were mad at Spike.”

“I am,” Dawn replied. “But just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I won’t help him.” An unreadable emotion passed through her eyes. “I mean, he’s in really bad shape.”

Willow grimaced. “Yeah, he definitely is.”

~~~~~

He could smell her, all over everything. Her scent was in the air, on the towel he’d wrapped around his waist, in the shampoo he’d used.

Spike clutched the towel more tightly, suddenly certain that this was a dream, a mirage. Sometimes he saw things that he knew weren’t there, heard the voices of people long dead. This was all a part of the madness—there was no way Buffy would allow him into her house again.

A noise from behind had him whirling to face the new threat, only to see Buffy standing in front of him, a bundle of clothing in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. “Are you okay?”

The words stuck in his throat, and he could only nod. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. She was a figment of his imagination, and she would—“Spike?” Her hand was on his arm, and he stared at it, because the ghosts never touched him.

Buffy looked into wounded eyes and kept her hand on his arm. The clothes lay on the bed—an old pair of sweatpants that had always been too big for her and an old t-shirt. She would have to locate more of his things. Maybe Clem would know where they were.

His hair was wet and curly from the shower, and Buffy could feel the wire-taut muscle of his forearm under her hand. Spike was ready to run. “I want you to get dressed,” she said quietly. “Can you do that for me?”

It took a moment for the words to register, and Spike shuddered beneath her touch. Why hadn’t she staked him yet? He could understand her not dusting him if she wasn’t real, but she was real. Why hadn’t she killed him?

“You have a soul, Spike.” Her words broke through the stasis, and he realized he’d spoken the question out loud. “Just—just get dressed, okay? And drink your blood. I’ve already got a bed set up for you in the basement.”

She left him then, and Spike felt her absence terribly. He could identify what was real while she was there with him, touching him, speaking to him. There was a tone in her voice that _it_ could never match.

Because he could do nothing else, Spike dressed in the clothing she had left for him and drank the blood she gave him, concentrating on those two tasks with everything he had. Then, feeling wearier than he ever had before, he descended the stairs, finding Buffy waiting for him. “Come on,” she said. “You need to sleep.”

When he didn’t move right away, Buffy took him by the arm, her touch gentle. “Downstairs, Spike.”

He followed her down the stairs, allowing himself to be led like a child. “They come when I sleep.”

“Well, they’re not allowed in my house,” Buffy declared, ignoring the fact that Spike had seen an apparition just a short while before. “So you can go to sleep.”

Spike wasn’t sure he remembered what sleep felt like. What it felt like to drift away without a care in the world. When had he last slept—deeply and without dreaming? “Don’t sleep anymore.”

“You’ll sleep here,” Buffy declared, tugging him over to the bed and tucking him in as she would have a child. “Just close your eyes and lie still.”

He did as he was told, feeling the brush of her hand over his hair as she left. Much to his surprise, Spike soon drifted off to sleep.

And he did not dream.

~~~~~

Buffy knew she probably should have gone on the hunt for the First and its minions immediately. She would have to check the Christmas tree lot where she’d first come upon the harbingers, not to mention checking the school basement again. She felt completely drained after getting Spike settled in the old cot, however, and all she wanted was to go to bed and sleep for a week.

It probably would have been easier to do her investigating if she had accepted the job at the school. Part time did not pay bills, however, and sticking with waitressing was pretty much the only option until she could start school again in the spring. Waiting tables sucked, but it was paradise compared to the Doublemeat.

Besides, something about the principal gave her the wiggins.

So Buffy followed her usual schedule, going to work and then going home to change before heading out on patrol.

The house was silent when she arrived, and for one panic-stricken moment Buffy thought that Spike had disappeared again. She would have to find him, drag him back, and chain him up so he couldn’t get away.

It was the last thing she wanted to do.

The back porch was the last place she thought to check, but sure enough Spike was out there, pulling on a cigarette. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

The Slayer took a cautious step towards him and settled herself gingerly on the step. “You’re looking better.”

“Feel a little better.”

There was no emotion in his voice. It was flat, expressionless, and it bothered her. Everything about Spike bothered her these days, Buffy realized. His presence made her feel as though her skin was too tight. “Spike—”

“’m sorry,” he said, before she could go any further. “I know I tried before, to say it, but—”

“You weren’t the only one there, Spike,” Buffy admitted quietly. “I think we both screwed things up pretty much equally.” She was quiet. “You’re sounding a little saner tonight.”

“Voices aren’t as loud here,” he replied. “It’s easier.” Spike stood. “I should go.”

Someone—Willow or Dawn, probably—had washed the clothing he’d been wearing. Buffy caught the scent of fabric softener drifting past her nose. “Go where?” she asked, standing quickly.

“Dunno,” Spike replied. “But I shouldn’t be here. I thought—” He broke off, not completing the sentence. “I should go.”

Buffy swallowed hard. “Spike, no. We don’t know what’s messing with you. If you leave—”

“I won’t be a burden,” he finished. “Never meant for that, you know.”

“You’re not a burden.”

Spike’s lips twisted into an expression that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah, right. Thanks for the blood and kip, pet, but I’ll be on my way.”

The panic was there again. Buffy didn’t want him to stay, and she didn’t want him to go. “Wait,” she demanded, a little desperately. “I think I know what’s after you.”

“Didn’t start till I came back to Sunnydale,” he replied. “Chances are if I leave, it’ll leave me alone.” Spike shrugged. “An’ if not, I can be crazy somewhere else just as well as here.”

He was going to make her say it, Buffy recognized. She was going to have to say the words. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Spike didn’t reply, shrugging his shoulders against the tension. She didn’t want him to go? Well, he didn’t want to stay. This was more difficult than he thought it would be. Spike had honestly believed that she’d stake him before she gave him the chance to speak. He considered it just penance.

To his surprise, the Slayer wasn’t cooperating.

“What if this thing causes some damage, Spike?” Buffy demanded. “What if it uses you? Let’s at least try to get this figured out.”

Spike hesitated and then nodded. “I can stay at my crypt until then.”

“It’s not there anymore.”

He stiffened. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“It’s not there anymore,” she repeated. “Clem—Clem told me. It got infested with a bunch of Rakka demons, and the only way to get rid of them is to—”

“Destroy their home,” Spike muttered.

The tension hummed between them, and Buffy could feel his desire to flee like a tangible thing. “Clem said he got most of your things out. I thought I’d pick them up tonight while I was out on patrol.”

“Fine,” Spike said, sounding terribly reluctant. “I’ll stay till we get this thing figured out then.”

“Spike—” She hesitated, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to say it. She wanted to tell him that it was better when he was around, even if it wasn’t easier. To tell him that she was glad he’d returned, even if it hurt. To say she was sorry for everything that had gone on.

Buffy was sorry that she’d used him, but she didn’t know how to say it.

“Forget it,” Spike said, reading some of that in her eyes and face. “My own soddin’ fault.”

She watched him go inside, and then pressed one hand to her forehead, resisting the urge to weep. Buffy hated that this was so damn hard.

~~~~~

Willow had been looking through her magic texts rather half-heartedly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help Spike; she really did. It was the actual doing of the magic that scared her, and most of the spells she had found were more than a little dangerous.

Mostly dangerous for Spike. Willow hated to think what Buffy’s reaction might be if she blew the vampire up.

There was one spell that looked relatively promising, but she didn’t want to try anything unless absolutely necessary. On the other hand, it never hurt to be prepared, which was why she was in the Magic Box, fidgeting under Anya’s watchful gaze.

She turned when the bell over the door jangled, thinking it might be Buffy. Instead, Xander was looking at her with raised eyebrows. “I thought you were off the magic, Will,” he commented.

“Oh, I am,” Willow replied. “This is sort of for Buffy. Just research, you know, trying to be prepared.” She was fairly certain that she didn’t want to explain the Spike situation to Xander, who had a tendency to be irrational any time a vampire was involved.

“Prepared for what?” Xander asked, immediately interested. “Is there an apocalypse on the horizon?”

“There’s always an apocalypse on the horizon,” Anya broke in with some asperity. “Like they’d need you for that, Xander. Unless they need donuts.”

Willow hid a wince as Xander’s face darkened. Anya’s tongue could be as sharp as Cordelia’s at times. “I do more than you,” he replied heatedly.

“That’s because I don’t care anymore,” she replied. “If this world goes to hell, it won’t be much of an improvement, quite frankly.”

Willow decided it was time to break things up. “There’s no apocalypse,” she said quickly. “It’s just that Buffy thinks there might be something after Spike.”

Mentioning the blond vampire was a mistake; Willow realized that as soon as the words left her mouth. Xander’s face resembled a thundercloud. “We’re helping Spike now?”

“He has a soul, Xander,” Willow said reprovingly.

“We only have his word for it,” Xander growled. “He could be lying so Buffy won’t stake him.”

Anya rolled her eyes, sighing loudly. “He’s not lying, Xander. I knew Spike had a soul before Buffy did. It’s obvious.”

“If you’re a demon,” Xander retorted.

“That’s right, Xander, I am a demon,” Anya shot back. “Let’s not forget why. Or do you need me to remind you?”

He frowned and then turned to face Willow again. “So why are we helping Spike again?”

“Something is tormenting him,” the witch said. “Buffy thinks it might be the First, and she’s worried that it’s going to make Spike do something bad.”

“Like kill someone?” Xander asked, sounding concerned for the first time.

“Like kill himself,” Willow corrected him. Then, seeing his expression, she hastily added, “Or someone else. There’s really no telling.”

Xander stood processing that for a minute, reluctantly recalling Spike’s complete freak-out after he’d hurt Ronnie-the-Giant-Worm. “You want some help?”

Willow blinked in surprise, and then smiled. “Yeah, actually that would be nice.”

~~~~~

Dawn slipped into the house as quietly as she was able. Buffy was probably out on patrol, but Willow might be home, and she would really rather not explain where she’d been.

Telling people you were visiting your mother’s grave in hopes of getting some sort of sign was a little weird, even for the Hellmouth.

The only conclusion she’d come to was that she was tired of people leaving, and she was glad Spike had come back. If Buffy was willing to forgive him for what he’d done, then Dawn would try to do the same.

Of course, she was going to make him suffer a little bit first. That was only fair.

He was standing in the kitchen. “Spike?”

“Dawn.”

Spike’s voice was even, and Dawn found herself wishing for the long summer days when he was the only one she could talk to. Then his voice had dripped with emotion—repressed grief and guilt and an endless love.

Sometimes Dawn wished Spike loved her as he loved Buffy. She could not help but think she’d feel safe as houses then.

“What are you doing?” He was just standing there, not moving, not even breathing, and it was beginning to freak her out a little.

There was a long silence, and then Spike turned to look at her, eyes glittering in the darkness. “Do you hear that?”

Dawn felt a chill run up her spine. “Hear what, Spike?”

“That’s what I thought,” he said calmly. Dawn would have felt better if he were yelling at her. A calm Spike was a frightening creature. “You need to leave now, Niblet.”

She backed up a step, knowing without being told that something was very, very wrong. “Why?”

“Because I’m not in control right now.” His face shifted, yellow eyes glowing, and Dawn could see him fighting it. “Run!”

She took to her heels, not bothering to look over her shoulder. She could hear the growls behind her, and then she heard him whistling a jaunty tune.

It was the song that scared her more than anything else.


	3. A Little Innocence

**“who were so dark of heart they might not speak,/a little innocence will make them sing;/ teach them to see who could not learn to look/--from the reality of all nothing/will actually lift a luminous whole;/turn sheer despairing to most perfect gay,/nowhere to here,never to beautiful:/a little innocence creates a day./And something thought or done or wished without/a little innocence,although it were/as red as terror and as green as fate,/greyly shall fail and dully despair--/but the proud power of himself death immense/is not so as a little innocence” ~e.e. cummings**

The Christmas tree lot was deserted this time of the year. It would be a couple months yet before the lot was crowded with people. Buffy wandered in a seemingly aimless pattern, winding her way through the obstacles in concentric circles, moving ever closer to the location where she’d discovered the First and its minions the first time around.

“Why am I not surprised?” Buffy muttered as she came upon her goal. Sure enough, the trees were dead again. They had been thriving a couple years ago when she had come with her mom to buy a tree. It was the last Christmas Joyce had been alive.

Once again, Buffy hunted around until she found the entrance to the cavern, dropping down through the hole she’d created. She had no idea what she was supposed to do about this thing. The First was back. Last time its goal had seemed to be to get Angel to kill himself, after it couldn’t force him to kill her. This time, Buffy hadn’t a clue what it wanted.

Unless, of course, the First wanted Spike to kill himself, in which case she was going to be seriously pissed off. How many times did she have to go through this?

“I knew you’d come.” This time, there were no harbingers, or if there were they were better hidden. “Did you really think I’d set up shop here again?”

The First looked like her. Buffy was staring into a mirror image of herself, and she suddenly understood exactly how it had managed to get under Spike’s skin so deeply. “This is getting really old,” she commented. “Have you ever thought of trying a new game?”

“Why?” not-Buffy asked smugly. “This game is so much fun. Better yet, you know the rules. I was a little surprised at how long it took you to catch on, though. I had a long time to work on him. You won’t save this one, not this time.”

Buffy snarled. “I think you’re underestimating him. Spike’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

The First smiled cruelly, and seeing its expression, Buffy wondered if that wasn’t what she had looked like to Spike. She suddenly understood why he might not want to stay in Sunnydale. “Do you really think so?” not-Buffy asked. “And what if he killed someone? What then?” The grin broadened. “What if he killed your sister, his beloved Little Bit? You don’t think he would beg for death, even if you didn’t kill him?”

Buffy’s eyes widened. She had no idea if the First could carry out its threat or not, but if it could—if Spike was forced to kill Dawn—the Slayer had no doubt that it would destroy him completely.

The sound of its laughter rang out behind her as she ran.

~~~~~

Dawn had been scared before, but she’d never been frightened of Spike. Well, _never_ was probably an exaggeration, but it had been a long time since she’d felt fear in his presence. Now, however, she could hear his mocking tones behind her.

She had bolted for the front door, only to find him there in front of her. Sometimes it was hard to remember just how fast vampires could be. Dawn had immediately bolted for her room, locking the door behind her, and grabbing her cross and stake.

“Come on, Dawn,” Spike’s voice called through the door. “Don’t make me come find you.”

Dawn tugged the window open, her breath coming in short, quick bursts. If she could sneak out the window before Spike knew what she was doing, she could make it to the Magic Box, or one of her friend’s houses where he didn’t have an invitation.

No, correction. She could find Buffy, because if her sister came home and didn’t realize that Spike was psycho, he could be on her before she knew what was happening.

The window finally came up, and Dawn was half out when her bedroom door burst open, the sound of splintering wood causing her to startle.

“You’re not trying to sneak out, are you, luv?” Spike asked, his tone mocking. “What would your sister say?”

It wasn’t Spike, of that Dawn was certain. Something had him—something was controlling him. Dawn knew that he had warned her for a reason, probably before he’d completely lost control of himself. If he hadn’t given her that warning—

Spike grabbed her foot, the only part of her body still in the room. “Come on, pet,” he murmured, his yellow eyes glittering. “Don’t you want to live forever?”

Dawn yanked herself out of his grip, tumbling down the incline of the roof and onto the ground, the air rushing out of her lungs. She gasped, trying to get her breath back as she forced herself into a standing position. “Dawn!” Strong hands grasped her by the arms, and Dawn met her sister’s green eyes. “Where is he?”

“He’s inside,” Dawn panted. “Something’s wrong, Buffy. Spike isn’t—”

“He’s not himself,” Buffy finished grimly. “I’m going to take care of this.”

Dawn took a step back, wincing as she put her weight on her twisted ankle. “Don’t hurt him, Buffy! He tried to warn me to get away.”

“I’ll take care of him.” Buffy’s face was set, and Dawn watched her sister, worried that the Slayer was going to do something she would later regret.

~~~~~

Buffy marched through the front door, ready to do some damage. She wanted to hurt the First, but for right now she’d have to settle for Spike. She hated to beat him up when he wasn’t himself, but it was that or staking him.

Staking him wasn’t an option. Period.

“Spike!” Buffy yelled. “Get your sorry ass down here!”

He was in full game face when he descended the stairs, his walk as cocky as it had been way back when she had first seen him in that alley outside the Bronze. “Wondered when you’d show.”

“This isn’t you, Spike,” Buffy said, wondering if she could talk him down before she had to put him down. “I know you’re in there somewhere.”

He didn’t reply, coming after her without warning. Buffy fought him off desperately, feeling both his strength and his lack of grace. It was almost as though he was struggling against something, since his movement was jerky and stilted.

Buffy blocked a couple of his punches, taking a kick on the thigh as she twisted out of the way. “Snap out of it!” she yelled, hoping that her voice would bring him back to himself as it had earlier.

There was no recognition in his face now; it was completely blank, devoid of emotion. That was what frightened Buffy more than anything else, since Spike usually wore a manic grin while he fought. This wasn’t even concentration. This was like fighting a Spike-shaped automaton.

She finally got the chance to put a fist in his gut, causing him to double over instinctively. Following up the punch with a kick to the jaw, the force of her blow sent him flying across the room, where he lay still.

Buffy sighed as she looked at him. This wasn’t what she’d wanted, not anymore. “Is he going to be okay?” Dawn asked from behind her.

“I think so,” Buffy replied, going over to where he lay, a trickle of blood on his chin. “Are you okay?”

“My ankle’s a little sore,” Dawn said, “but I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about Spike. He’s going to hate himself when he remembers what happened.”

Buffy knew her sister was right on the mark. “We’ll just have to make sure he believes it wasn’t his fault then.”

~~~~~

Willow found Dawn on the couch, her leg propped up and an ice pack draped over her ankle. The witch frowned. “What happened, Dawnie?”

“Spike went all psycho on me,” Dawn replied. “Literally.”

Willow blinked. Dawn sounded way too casual about the whole thing. “And you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Dawn replied. “It really wasn’t Spike’s fault. He warned me to get out before he came after me. Buffy thinks the First was possessing him or something.”

Willow smelled an emergency. She had the sinking feeling that the spell she had found would end up being their only solution after all. “Where’s Buffy?”

“In the basement making sure Spike’s secure.” Dawn grimaced. “You know, I’m beginning to feel really sorry for Spike. First he goes crazy, then something possesses him, and then he gets beat up by my sister.” She looked over at Willow. “What did you find? Are you going to do that spell we were talking about?”

Willow sighed. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, but I’m not sure that I have a choice now. It looks like it might be the only game in town.”

“Do you really think it’s going to help?” Dawn asked. “Won’t the First or whatever it is just find another way to torment him?”

“Maybe,” Willow allowed. “What the spell will do is prevent the First from making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. The biggest problem seems to be that it can play Spike’s demon off his soul, making one act against the other. If we can make them one—metaphysically speaking—we can prevent that from happening.”

Dawn look skeptical. “What’s that going to do to Spike, though?”

“That I don’t know,” Willow confessed. “I wouldn’t dare try it with Angel, but it’s got at least a chance at working with Spike.”

Dawn wasn’t so sure about that. It seemed to her that there were a lot of risks involved with this spell, and that most of them were risks to Spike. “I guess we’ll just have to let Buffy decide then.”

Willow shook her head. “I’m not doing this without Spike’s full cooperation. If this doesn’t work, he could wind up a vegetable—or worse.”

Dawn didn’t even want to know what could be worse.

~~~~~

Spike groaned as he woke, his head throbbing. He felt something cool slide against his skin, and his eyes fluttered open to see Buffy’s face. Her hand pushed him back down when he tried to sit up. “Lay down, Spike.”

He did as he was told, knowing that he was as close to being dust as he ever had been before. He could feel the heavy manacles around his wrists and felt a rush of relief. “How’s Dawn?”

“She’s fine.” Buffy’s face was grim as she wiped the blood from his chin. “She twisted her ankle when she fell, but it’ll probably be fine by tomorrow.”

Spike’s face twisted in shame. “Just stake me, Buffy. It’s the only way—”

“It’s not the only way,” Buffy cut him off. “Willow’s working on a spell that might help.”

Spike shook his head. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I get loose, an’ I hurt Dawn, or Red, or—you. Bloody hell, Slayer! Just do it already!”

“I’m not going to kill you,” she said stubbornly. “That’s just what the First wants.”

Spike swallowed. “Then why don’t we give it what it wants?” he asked quietly. “’s not like I don’t deserve it.”

“Forget it,” Buffy retorted. “You’re not getting out of this that easy, Spike.”

“So you’re doin’ this to torture me?”

“No, I’m doing this because you don’t deserve to die any more than anybody else does,” she responded. “Think about it, Spike. If I killed everyone who’s hurt me, anyone who’d ever tried to kill me—I wouldn’t have any friends right now.”

“But—”

“No,” she said. “I’m going to get you through this, and then we’re going to hash some things out.” Buffy’s hand was still on his chest, sending heat radiating through his form. “This wasn’t your fault. Something got to you, and we’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Why are you doin’ this?” he demanded, sitting up in spite of her orders. “You’re not in love with me. You don’t even like me. Why does it matter?”

“Because it does.” At the look on his face, Buffy winced. “I don’t hate you. Besides, you—” She couldn’t finish, couldn’t say the words to his face. It would be too much of an admission that there was something more there.

It would mean confessing that she had known he loved her before the soul.

“Look, we can talk about this later. I need to see if Willow’s found anything yet.”

The sound of a throat being cleared had Buffy turning. “I found a spell.”

~~~~~

Buffy was shaking her head by the time Willow got done. “There are too many risks.”

“I want you to do it,” Spike said, ignoring Buffy’s objection. “Is it safe for you?”

“For me?” Willow asked. “Yeah, but if it doesn’t work there’s no telling what it will do to you.”

“It’ll merge the demon an’ the soul, right?” Spike asked. “’s pretty much what I wanted to begin with.”

“Technically it doesn’t merge the two, it just makes it hard to tell one from the other. It binds them together so that the First can’t use the demon side of you, or the human side.”

Buffy had a bad feeling about this. “I don’t know, Will. If this goes wrong—”

“You’ll stake me an’ be done with it,” Spike interrupted. “If this doesn’t work, I won’t have this thing usin’ me.”

Buffy shook her head. “I’ll go find its Bringers and kick their asses,” she objected. “We can at least try.”

“And until you know for sure it’s gone, you keep me in the basement?” Spike asked incredulously. “Don’t think so.”

Willow held up a hand. “I think Spike might be right,” she inserted. “Not that I want to do the spell, but the First could easily come back without us knowing about it. It seems to really like souled vampires.”

“It seems to hate souled vampires,” Buffy corrected impatiently. She stood, beginning to pace. She didn’t like the risks that Willow had outlined, nor did she like the idea of keeping Spike chained up indefinitely. “What’s the real risk on this, Willow? Give me your best guess.”

Willow sighed. “There’s a really good chance that if the spell doesn’t work it’ll just fizzle. No harm done. I think I can make it work.”

“And if it doesn’t work and it doesn’t fizzle?” Buffy pressed.

Willow gave Spike an apologetic look. “Spike could just not wake up. Ever.”

“I still want to do it.” Spike’s voice was steady. “Buffy, I can’t do this again. If I hurt you or Dawn—”

He didn’t have to finish. Buffy knew exactly what it would do to him. There would literally be nothing left. “What do we need?”

“I already have the supplies,” Willow replied. “I got them tonight, just in case.”

“I want to do it as soon as possible.” Spike’s voice cut into the silence. “I trust you, Red.”

Buffy looked over at her friend, who was wringing her hands nervously. “That’s good, because I don’t know if I trust me.” Willow gave Buffy a pleading look. “You should probably be here for it, you know. If I go all veiny—”

“I’ll take care of it,” Buffy replied. “You’d better get your things.”

She left, and the Slayer looked over at Spike. “You’re sure about this?”

“Do I look sure?”

He looked as determined as she’d ever seen him. “Maybe we’re being too hasty,” she hedged. “We haven’t been looking for a solution very long. There could be—”

“Something else?” Spike asked. “How long before we’re sure? How long until I get hijacked again an’ end up doin’ some real damage?”

Buffy took a deep breath, sitting down next to him on the cot. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“Nice to know you care, luv,” he said, a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

“I care.”

It was out now, although she’d been giving off every indication of caring for the past couple days. “Because of the soul.”

“Not just that, though it helps,” Buffy admitted. “It makes things easier.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, staring down at his hands. Spike hated that it mattered, but wasn’t that why he’d gotten it in the first place?

Buffy laid a hand on his. “Look, Spike, if this doesn’t turn out—”

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by Willow’s re-entrance. “I’ve got everything,” she said. “I don’t think it’ll take too long.”

The Slayer knew she needed to say something—knew she needed to tell Spike that the soul wasn’t everything. The words stuck in her throat. “Great. Let’s get started then.”

~~~~~

The spell was deceptively simple. While they would have all been more comfortable upstairs in the living room, it was deemed safer to stay in the basement, just in case the chains around Spike’s wrists became necessary in the middle of things.

Willow was more than a little nervous about the whole thing. It wasn’t a complicated spell, but it required a lot of concentration and will power from the caster, and while that was exactly what she’d been working on with the coven, this was the first test of her new-found control.

This was why she had started using magic in the first place—to help her friends, to be useful. This was also why Giles had sent her back to Sunnydale, because they needed her.

Willow asked Buffy to move the cot out of the way, then she sprinkled the elements around Spike in a circle. “This won’t set me on fire, will it?” he asked.

“No fire, I promise,” Willow replied. “This is a fire-free zone.”

“You’ll be fine, Red.”

Willow appreciated his assurances, and his faith. They had been almost-friends at some point, before things had gone so horribly wrong. Willow hated that she was a part of that, hated that she hadn’t done anything to help Buffy after ripping her friend out of heaven.

It had been easier to get lost in the magicks. Willow had forgotten that magic was supposed to be hard.

She sat down cross-legged in front of him, taking in a deep breath. “What’s going to happen?” Buffy asked from behind her.

“Not much,” Willow replied quietly. “It’s not a real flashy spell.”

“How will we know if it worked?” the Slayer asked, sounding doubtful.

Willow made a face at Spike, knowing Buffy couldn’t see it, noting the answering twinkle in his eyes. “Spike will definitely know.”

She felt it immediately—the power like a siren’s call. It was there all the time, but Willow could sense it more distinctly when she focused. The coven had explained that this wasn’t something she could just get rid of, and even if she could, Willow had the responsibility to use her power wisely.

To whom much is given, much is required.

Willow had understood then that asking that they strip her of her abilities was just another attempt at taking the easy way out. The magic had gotten out of control, therefore the magic ought to be taken from her.

It was never that easy.

As Willow had suspected, both Spike’s soul and demon weren’t at war. The demon had asked for the soul, so it was relatively resigned to the state of things. There was still a chasm that needed to be bridged, however, and that was what the spell would do.

It was, in many ways, artificial, and it wouldn’t last forever. What it would do—Willow hoped—was to prevent one side from being taken over from the other. The First would find it impossible to use Spike’s demon against him, would no longer be able to tap into that energy without getting the moral compass the soul represented.

The spell would also, with some luck, undo any of the brainwashing that the First had used. That last part was a long shot, however.

At long last, Willow could feel the spell she’d woven taking effect, binding the demon to the soul and vice versa. Everything was going just fine when something lurched, and she was hit with a wave of power.

As darkness swept over her, Willow realized that she had underestimated the affect that the First itself would have on the spell.

~~~~~

Buffy watched as Willow’s eyes shot open, the pupils having expanded until they eclipsed the iris. The Slayer froze, wondering if she would have to step in, but the witch’s eyes shut, and she toppled over sideways in the next moment.

Rushing over to her friend, Buffy breathed a sigh of relief when Willow began to stir immediately. “Oh boy,” she groaned. “That was not fun.”

Buffy frowned, and then looked back towards Spike. He had seemed to drift off to sleep during the course of the spell, but now his eyes were wide open, and he was looking around with ill-concealed terror. “Spike?”

His head snapped around, and he focused on her for the first time. There was no recognition in his eyes. “Where am I?” he demanded. “Who are you?” The chains rattled as he moved his hands. “I demand to know what you want of me!”

Buffy sat frozen. The accent was different, the facial expressions, everything. It was impossible, but of one thing she was certain—it was no longer Spike sitting in front of her.


	4. Sweet William

**“What are heavy? sea-sand and sorrow:/What are brief? today and tomorrow:/What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth:/What are deep? the ocean and truth.” ~Christina Rossetti**

“I demand an explanation!”

William’s voice, growing increasingly panicked, snapped Buffy out of her stupor. Before she could respond, Dawn called down the stairs, “Buffy? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Dawnie,” she shouted back quickly. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

William looked as though he was going to start yelling again, but Buffy used her speed to advantage and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Okay, look. I know you’re confused, but I promise, there’s a really good explanation for this. Just sit tight.”

Frustrated blue eyes stared at her, and she could feel his cool skin and lips under her hand. This was the most physical contact they’d had since his return, and Buffy felt a chill run up her spine. Taking her hand away slowly, she waited for him to speak. “Where am I?”

“You’re in California,” Buffy replied, casting an anxious glance back towards Willow, who was pushing herself up off the floor. “Wills? You okay?”

“Oh, sure,” Willow replied. “As soon as my head stops pounding.” The witch looked from the Slayer to the discombobulated vampire and winced. “You know, why don’t I make us some tea?” she suggested brightly, escaping up the stairs before Buffy could protest.

Buffy turned back to the vampire, who was frowning. “California? But isn’t that—I don’t understand.”

She had no clue what to say to make him understand, either. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

It was as if all the fight had been taken out of him. All he managed was, “There was a woman in an alley.”

It was enough for Buffy. “Look, if I let you go, do you promise not to run off?”

He shook his head. “Who are you? How did I get here?”

“Okay, one question at a time,” she replied. “I’m Buffy, and how you got here is a really long story. Now, do you promise not to try anything if I let you go?”

He stared at her, confusion writ large on his expressive face. “I promise,” he said finally. “But I don’t—”

Buffy interrupted him. “I know this is strange and confusing. I promise I’ll explain. We’ll just go upstairs, and have some tea, and it’ll be fine.”

His eyes followed her as she unlocked his chains. “Do you—do you know me?”

“Really well,” Buffy replied. “Trust me, William. We know each other really well.”

~~~~~

William’s hands engulfed the warm mug, seeking comfort in the familiar.

Although, even the ceramic felt strange in his hands.

Nothing looked the least bit familiar; he had never seen any of the women before in his life. The awkward silence that had fallen upon his and Buffy’s arrival in the kitchen had just gotten worse. His own clothing felt strange to him, and the clothes that the women were wearing were like nothing he’d ever seen.

There were gadgets on the counter whose purpose he could not determine, and the entire house was well-lit by electricity. William had heard of such things, of course, but he had no idea that it was so wide-spread in America.

Even the material that comprised the kitchen counters was unfamiliar.

Briefly, William wondered if he’d gone crazy. Was this the hallucination of a madman? Perhaps he really was confined in an asylum somewhere, and his fevered brain had simply concocted this elaborate world.

William wondered if he even wanted the answers.

“Okay, somebody say something already,” the young woman they’d introduced as Dawn exclaimed.

Buffy frowned. “Dawn—”

The girl turned towards him. “Look, this is 2002, not the 1800’s. You’re not human, and Willow did a spell that got screwed up. Again.”

Willow made a face, but she didn’t saying anything to defend herself. It was all true.

Somehow, William didn’t find that that explanation clarified matters at all. “I beg your pardon?”

“What year is it?” Buffy asked, shooting her sister a quelling look.

William shook his head. “It’s 1880. I—” He looked around him. William might have his head in the clouds much of the time, but he wasn’t stupid. There was something very strange going on.

“It’s not,” Willow said gently. “It’s the 21st century.”

He shook his head impatiently. This was all impossible. Perhaps he had gone mad. That seemed the only likely explanation. “No,” he said impatiently. “I don’t know what kind of game this is, or how you brought me here, but—”

“Show him the bathroom, Buffy,” Dawn said impatiently.

Buffy frowned. “The what?”

“The mirror,” Willow clarified. “He needs to know. If he doesn’t, and he goes outside during the day…”

William had no idea what they were talking about. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but you cannot keep me here against my will.”

“Actually, I can,” Buffy replied, grabbing him by the upper arm. Talking was obviously getting them nowhere. Dawn and Willow were right. Spike was a danger to himself as long as he didn’t know the truth, and the proof was as close as the mirror upstairs.

She was amazingly strong, William realized. Buffy wasn’t hurting him, but he could tell that with a little more pressure she could easily do him real harm. “Unhand me!” he protested.

“No,” she replied grimly. “Trust me, this is for your own good.”

He chose not to struggle after that. It would be too embarrassing to be forced against his will by a woman who was stronger than he. After the humiliation of last night—if the party was indeed yesterday—William had no desire to relive that shame.

Feeling a twinge as she pushed him through the doorway, he instinctively looked into the mirror that was directly in front of him—and saw nothing.

William raised a hand, thinking that perhaps it was some trick of the light, but there was nothing there. Nothing except for Buffy, with the space next to her empty, as though he didn’t exist.

Did he not exist? Was he nothing after all?

Buffy saw the stricken look on his face, watched as he stumbled backwards towards the wall, clutching at it in an attempt to stay upright. Shame hit her hard. She might have been gentler in her delivery of the news. She could have broken it to him more gradually. Instead, this whole exercise seemed to have hurt him more than he had been before.

Perhaps the choice to do the spell had been Spike’s, but this wasn’t the outcome he had anticipated.

“I don’t understand,” William whispered, finally turning his eyes from the mirror to Buffy, who was standing there looking at him with more compassion than he’d seen since waking up in her cellar. “Please…”

This time when she reached out, it was to grab his hand, not his arm. “I know. Let’s go sit down.”

William was grateful when she didn’t let go. He needed to feel real again, and only the touch of her hand in his proved his existence.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said, as they reached the living room again. “I probably could have done that differently.”

William shook his head. “I still don’t understand. I wasn’t—how is it that I do not have a reflection?”

“Spike—” The name slipped out before she could help herself. Buffy sighed. “Your heart isn’t beating, William. You’re not—you’re not human anymore.”

It was what the younger girl had said, the one who was even now staring at him with sympathy mixed with impatience. He shook his head again. He was walking, talking—even if he wasn’t sure he was making sense. Buffy took his hand and moved it to his chest, to rest over his heart.

It wasn’t beating.

His heart lay silent in his chest, and William realized for the first time that although breathing was still a habit, it wasn’t necessary. As soon as his attention had been called to it, he began hyperventilating. William felt suffocated—as though everything was pressing down on him. He was dying all over again.

He didn’t remember dying the first time.

A glass of water appeared before his face. “Drink this. Slowly,” Dawn warned.

William did as he was told more out of habit than anything else. He sipped at the water, trying to calm himself. “I don’t understand,” he finally managed.

He seemed to be saying that a lot. William was lost.

“You’re a vampire,” Buffy began quietly, “but you have your soul. We’ve known each other for years now. There was—something haunting you, and Willow did a spell that was supposed to protect you. Now—”

When Buffy broke off, Willow took up the story. “The spell made the soul primary, instead of giving it equal footing with the demon,” she explained. “That’s why you don’t really remember anything.”

Dawn cleared her throat. “But the soul’s been there for a while. Spike should have some memories of recent events.”

“Spike?” William asked hesitantly.

“Vampire-you,” Buffy said impatiently, thinking.

Willow sighed. “The spell went weird at the end,” she said. “I honestly don’t know why it’s working this way now.”

There was a long pause. “I still don’t think I understand,” William finally said.

“Neither does anybody else,” Willow said soothingly. “We’re all pretty lost right now.”

“Which is nothing new,” Dawn said wryly. “I guess it’s research time, then.”

Buffy shook her head. “What about getting Spike back?”

Willow shook her head. “I don’t know, but the spell isn’t supposed to be permanent. I’d give it a few weeks, maybe a couple months at most.”

William slowly realized that they were talking about what was basically his imminent demise. As bewildered as he might be, William wasn’t quite ready to not exist. Or something. “Wait! You can’t just get rid of me!”

“We’re not getting rid of you, we’re getting the rest of you back,” Buffy snapped. She winced as he flinched at her sharp tone. “Look, William—”

William stood stiffly. “I think I would like to freshen up, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll take you upstairs, William,” Willow said gently. “We still have to find some other clothing for you.”

“I’ll go see Clem,” Buffy announced, needing to get out of the house. “I think he still has some of Spike’s stuff.”

They all scattered, and Dawn looking around, sighing. “I guess I’m just going to start on the books then,” she muttered.

~~~~~

Buffy stalked down the street towards where she knew Clem was staying. Her life was insane. She couldn’t believe this. Just as she was starting to get used to Spike being around again, she ends up with William.

William!

He was definitely not Spike, that was for sure.

“‘I’ve always been bad,’ my ass,” Buffy muttered, thinking about his response to her. William had been scared stiff and ready to run. He’d started hyperventilating, for Pete’s sake. He was also completely freaked out, and Buffy knew they were going to have to babysit him. Probably for a while. The big question was how much to tell him about their relationship and who she was; for his own sake, he had to know about being a vampire.

Willow might not think this spell was going to last forever, but Buffy wasn’t going to count on that assurance. This was the Hellmouth, after all. There was no guarantee that Spike would come back on his own.

And Buffy wanted Spike back.

Correction. Buffy wanted the old Spike back. She wanted the cocky vampire who refused to go away. The guy who chased her all around town, who made her forget how to breathe.

The thing that she would never tell Spike was that she’d dreamed of him over the summer. At first she’d thought it was pretty sick—having erotic dreams about the guy who had tried to rape her. After a while, however, Buffy had found it easier to remember the moments that had led up to her sleeping with him in the first place.

She wasn’t the kind of girl to sleep with a man she didn’t like, or that she didn’t have some kind of feelings for.

By the end of the summer, Buffy was having as many dreams about sitting on her porch with him, just talking, as she was about having sex with him. It was the reason she hadn’t staked Spike immediately upon seeing him.

Or even after.

Buffy bit back a sigh, and rapped softly on Clem’s door. The gentle demon had a tendency to get a little wigged when she showed up unannounced. “Buffy!” he exclaimed. “How’s it going?”

A reluctant smile spread across her face. It was hard to be irritated around Clem. “It’s—okay, Clem. Not great, but okay. Do you still have Spike’s stuff from the crypt?”

“Sure!” he replied, opening the door wider so that she could enter. “Sophie and I were just watching some reruns of _Knight Rider_. If you want to join us—”

“No thanks,” Buffy replied.

He peered at her with some concern. “Is everything okay? Is Spike—”

“Spike’s not quite himself,” Buffy said slowly. “There was a spell…”

Clem managed to look slightly disapproving. “That magic will get you into trouble.”

“Tell me about it,” Buffy muttered.

He patted her on the shoulder, careful of his claws. “If you need some help with him, you just let me know,” Clem offered. “Spike’s my pal.”

“I know he is, Clem,” Buffy said gently. “I’ll definitely give you a call if I can use your help.”

~~~~~

William splashed water on his face, trying not to glance into the mirror. He had no desire to see the empty space where he ought to be.

Clutching at the counter with wet hands, he watched the water dribble down the drain. Everything was strange; nothing made sense.

He reached for the towel blindly, blotting his face dry and turning his back to the mirror to wipe his hands off. There was a knock on the door. “William? How are you doing in there?”

William opened the door to find Willow standing there. “Quite well, thank you,” he said politely.

“Are you sure?” Willow said anxiously. “Are you hungry? Because I could get you something to eat.”

He hesitated. “Don’t vampires drink—blood?” he asked, gulping heavily.

Willow winced. “Oh, well, yeah, but you can eat other things too!” She tried to sound cheerful for his sake. “You could, you know, drink your blood really fast, and then have something else to wash it down.”

William wasn’t sure what he thought of that, but it didn’t seem like he had any other options at this point. “That could work. What might you have to eat?”

The redhead frowned. She wasn’t much of a cook, and there was no way that William was ready for Dawn’s brand of food. “We could make hot chocolate,” she suggested, dimly recalling someone saying something about Spike liking it.

He thought about it for a moment. “Thank you, that would be nice.”

“I really am sorry about this,” Willow said. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

William wanted to know what way it was supposed to go. He wanted to know how it was that he and Buffy were acquainted, and what their relationship was precisely.

He wanted to know everything and nothing.

Even though William wanted to ask a dozen questions, he was a gentleman, and gentlemen didn’t pry. “I understand,” he replied. Even though he didn’t.

Willow caught the expression in his eyes. “Let’s go find something to eat,” she said gently, tucking her hand through his arm.

William appreciated her sweetness. “That would be lovely.”


	5. Struggling With Ourselves

**“A dream there is wherein we are fain to scream,/While struggling with ourselves we cannot speak…When I was young I deemed that sweets are sweet:/But now I dream some searching bitters are/Sweeter than sweets, and more refreshing far,/And to be relished more and more desired,/And more to be pursued on eager feet,/On feet untired, and still on feet though tired.” ~Christina Rossetti, from _Sonnets of a Later Life_**

“May I ask a question?” William asked after they had sipped their hot chocolate for a time. Dawn had excused herself to go to bed as they came downstairs, and he couldn’t help but wonder at the look he’d seen in her eyes. The young woman appeared to be struggling with some sort of dislike of him, and William greatly desired to know why Dawn would feel that way.

He couldn’t imagine ever offering insult to a woman, not unless it was unwanted love poetry. Except for the fact that Dawn was very young, and no matter how much he had changed, William had no doubt that she was upset with him for some very different reason.

Willow looked up nervously. She had the feeling that William’s questions could get her into dangerous territory very quickly. “Sure.”

“What manner of relationship do I have with—” He faltered slightly, uncomfortable with using Christian names, and yet not knowing surnames for any of the women with whom he found himself sharing a house.

“Buffy?” Willow asked gently, already sensing where William was going. “It’s—hard to explain. It would be better if she told you the story.”

He shook his head. “Why would she want to help a vampire?” he asked softly. “That was what the spell was for, was it not?”

Willow really didn’t want to get into this, not now, not when she had no idea how much Buffy thought he should know. On the other hand, the poor guy was already bewildered enough. Perhaps some vague answers would help him. “It was,” she assured him quickly. “You—you help people now,” she explained. “There was—this evil ghostie thing that wasn’t happy with it, and so we did the spell so it couldn’t hurt you.”

“I thought vampires—” William broke off with a nervous chuckle. He hadn’t even believed in vampires till now, so it was silly to think he’d had any knowledge of them at all. “I’m not evil?”

“Not anymore,” the witch replied carefully. “Not for a while now.”

“Then I was,” William pressed. “Did I—”

He couldn’t complete the question, and Willow wasn’t sure what to say to him. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to like her answer. William would probably be devastated to know what he’d done, but she wasn’t sure that she could lie. “You did help Buffy save the world a couple of times,” she pointed out, hoping to distract him with the good news.

He frowned. “Save the—” Save the world? William probably would have asked more questions, demanded more answers—mostly along the lines of why Buffy would be involved in something like that with _him_ by her side—but the front door opened and closed again with a crash.

The awkward silence that greeted her was enough to let the Slayer know that she had probably been the topic of conversation. “What’s going on?” she asked flatly.

“We were just having some hot chocolate,” Willow chirped, trying to dispel the tension. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for this mess, since it was her spell.

Buffy’s eyes didn’t leave William. “What did you tell him, Willow?”

“Nothing!” she said defensively. “Just that he wasn’t evil now and that he’s helped you save the world.”

Even though she wasn’t taking her eyes off him, William hated feeling as though he was being talked around. He didn’t like feeling as though he wasn’t even in the room. “I asked her what our relationship was.”

“We don’t have a relationship,” Buffy said, carefully keeping her voice devoid of emotion. “We’re allies and friends, and that’s it.”

It was a lie, but Buffy didn’t want to get into it. When he opened his mouth to ask yet another question, she cut him off. “I’m a vampire Slayer, William. It’s my job to make sure that the people who want to help can. You happened to be one of those people, but that doesn’t mean there has to be any more to it.”

She was right, of course, even if William was having a very hard time picturing himself saving the world or even fighting. Perhaps as a vampire he was different. That still left one question unanswered. “What is a vampire Slayer?”

~~~~~

William probably should have felt more disbelief. He should have protested that it was impossible and that they were all mad. After the shock of not having a reflection, however, plus discovering that he was a vampire without a heartbeat or the need to breathe—well, he didn’t have the energy to feel surprise or anything else.

It was easier to simply sit back, nod, and hope this was all a bad dream that was going to go away in the bright light of morning. In fact, as soon as Buffy finished up her explanation of “one girl in all the world,” William politely covered a yawn. “Would you mind terribly if I go to bed?” he faltered slightly, realizing that he had no idea where he was staying.

“Yeah, sure,” Buffy replied, as gently as she knew how. “I can bring your stuff down to the basement.”

William tried very hard not to look disappointed. His impression of the basement was that it was not an inviting place, but right now he just wanted a place to lay his head. “Thank you.”

He followed Buffy down the stairs after bidding Willow good night, realizing that the box she was carrying included all that he owned.

It wasn’t a very big box.

Feeling not a little helpless, William watched as she pulled a narrow cot out from the corner, where he hadn’t noticed it. “Have you eaten tonight?”

“Willow…” He trailed off, feeling awkward acknowledging that he’d had blood for supper. It hadn’t been too bad, actually, as long as he didn’t think about _what_ he was drinking. That was yet another item he was too tired to react to.

Buffy nodded. “Good. Look, I’ve got work tomorrow, and Dawn and Willow are going to be at school, so you’re on your own. You can watch TV or whatever, as long as you stay out of our bedrooms.”

He was slightly taken aback by her abrupt manners, but simply nodded meekly. William felt as though he was on the verge of a breakdown, and if he was going to give in to tears, he wanted to do so privately.

“Good night,” Buffy said, heading back up the stairs and leaving him alone.

William looked around, feeling the edges of despair. He felt more alone now than he ever had before, and that was saying something.

It occurred to him then that he had given no thought to his mother over the last few hours, and guilt assailed him until William realized that there was no way she was still alive. Over a hundred years had passed, and his mother had been dying. What had she thought? Had she known of his fate?

Had he hurt her?

The tears came then, thinking of his mother, long since dust. His one and only ally and confidant was gone, and he was left in this strange time and place with people who didn’t seem to care about his existence one way or another.

William curled up on his side on the cot and cried himself to sleep.

~~~~~

When he woke, it was early morning, the sun filtering through the high windows. For a moment, William had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. The memories came rushing back in an avalanche of emotion. He briefly considered rolling over and pulling the thin blanket over his head, but that was the coward’s way out, and he knew it.

Never mind that he _was_ something of a coward.

Stifling a groan, William decided to find a way to get cleaned up, and—as his stomach growled—get something to eat. He was sunk so deeply in his own misery that he wasn’t paying attention to the open blinds in the kitchen.

Not until he found himself on fire, anyway.

Yelping with surprise and panic, William looked around frantically for something to douse the flames with. The matter was taken out of his hands when a hand grabbed his wrist, yanking him over to the sink and turning on the faucet.

He turned startled blue eyes to meet furious green ones. “What the hell were you thinking?” Buffy demanded. She had quickly drawn the blinds when she saw that William was on fire, so he was safe enough from the sun now.

“I—”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she asked. “After all the trouble I’ve gone through to keep you in one piece? If you were going to commit suicide, the least you could do is go outside where you won’t get dust all over the floor.”

Speechless in the face of her furious assault, William could say nothing in his own defense, staring instead at the raw skin on his hand. “Dammit!” Buffy muttered. “And I’m late for work.”

“I’ll take care of it, Buffy,” Willow said quietly as she entered the kitchen. “I don’t have to be at class for a little while.”

“Fine,” the Slayer groused. “And remind the Bleached Wonder here that he’s not invincible while you’re at it, will you?”

Buffy was gone in a moment, and William turned wounded eyes to the redhead. “Are you okay?”

William looked back down at his hand. “I don’t think so,” he said carefully. The pain was excruciating, and he knew from experience that burns took quite some time to heal.

Willow took his hand in hers gently. “A good thing about being a vampire is that you heal fast,” she said.

“That is good news, I suppose,” he replied, feeling a bit faint.

Leading him over to the kitchen table, carefully avoiding the direct sunlight, Willow sat him down. “Wait right there. I’m going to get something for your hand.”

William didn’t believe he could move if he wanted to, but he waited obediently, gritting his teeth against the pain. The young woman returned shortly with supplies, and quickly began spreading ointment over the burns, wrapping his hand in gauze. “How’s that?”

“Better, thank you,” William replied sincerely. “I don’t—why was Buffy so angry?”

Willow winced. “I’m sure she was just worried and in a hurry.” Glancing up at the clock, she sighed. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to run or _I’m_ going to be late. There’s blood in the fridge, and you saw where I got the mugs last night. Just put it in the microwave and hit the two button. That should take care of it.”

She was off in a moment, leaving him in an empty house that felt strangely intimidating. “Pull yourself together, man,” William muttered, talking to himself. “You’re not a child.”

But he still wanted his mother.

~~~~~

Buffy squashed her guilt as she remembered the stunned and hurt look on William’s face when she’d begun yelling at him. “It was his own damn fault,” she muttered rebelliously. “Everybody knows that sunlight kills vampires.”

Of course, “everybody” really didn’t include the vampire himself, who had little experience in the matter. He’d been badly burned, and Buffy bit back a sigh. This situation wasn’t making it any easier to figure out how she felt about Spike.

Her feelings for Spike were making it harder for her to deal with William. It was a no-win situation for both of them. William lost out because she was acting like a bitch. Buffy lost out because the person she really wanted was Spike.

“Buffy!” Xander’s voice broke into her thoughts, and she looked over at his car that had just pulled up beside her. “You want a ride?”

She climbed into the passenger side, thankful that Xander had shown up when he did. With him driving, she would make it to work with time to spare. “Thanks, Xan.”

“Always happy to help,” he replied cheerfully. “But why the long face?” His eyes flashed angrily. “Spike isn’t giving you any trouble, is he?”

Buffy’s head snapped around. “What do you know about Spike?”

“Willow came by the Magic Box yesterday for supplies,” he reminded her. “I happened to be there.” Xander frowned. “Did you end up doing the spell?”

“Oh, we did the spell all right,” Buffy said bitterly. “And it worked.”

“That’s not a good thing?” Xander asked. “I thought you wanted to make sure this thing couldn’t get at him.”

Buffy sighed. “I did, but the spell went weird. Spike isn’t—Spike any more. He’s William.”

“He’s—” Xander paused to process that statement, and then it hit him. “You mean he’s—”

“He thought he was human until we convinced him otherwise,” Buffy replied. “And William is definitely not Spike. William is—” Buffy was going to say that William was a wimp, but that wasn’t very nice. “Just a regular guy,” she finished.

While Xander might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, he wasn’t stupid. There could be only one reason why the Slayer hadn’t killed Spike yet, and while he didn’t like to think about it, not thinking about it didn’t change things.

Buffy felt something for the bleached pest, and Xander finally admitted that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. “Is Willow going to reverse the spell?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. She said she thought it would wear off after a while, since it was never supposed to be permanent. Besides, the First isn’t tormenting him anymore, and until we find another way to prevent that from happening, I think we’ll just have to leave it.”

“Meanwhile, you’re stuck with William,” Xander said wryly.

Buffy sighed. “Pretty much.”

~~~~~

William was terribly bored. He had managed to go back to sleep for a couple hours, but upon waking for the second time, he had found himself at loose ends.

Almost by accident, William had discovered how the “TV” in the living room worked. The moving pictures had fascinated him for a time, but he had soon realized that most of the offerings were comprised of violence and vulgarity. While William was trying not to think very hard about anything—including his undead status—the images on the television disturbed him.

He had always tried to surround himself with things of beauty. It wasn’t that he was unaware of the ugliness that the world had to offer, but William saw no reason to become saturated with such things. After all, what one put into one’s mind was what came out, and he had wanted to create beauty.

Even though he would never write another poem, William still felt the same way.

Unlike his own house, there was no room set aside for a library, and there weren’t any books left out in the common areas either. Neither was there a piano that he might have amused himself with playing. If he wanted to find a book to read, he would have to go into the bedrooms, and Buffy had forbidden him from doing so.

There was the option of going through the box of his own things, but that frightened him. What if he ran across something that gave evidence of past crimes? William wanted no confirmation that he had done what vampires were famed for.

Of course, that left him with precisely nothing to do, not unless he wanted to try scribbling down the poetry that was flowing through his head. Which he didn’t.

William contented himself with wandering around the lower level of the house, looking at pictures—in color!—and different gewgaws. It was all so very strange, but with this vague sense of familiarity that tickled his memory. It was like a case of déjà vu.

It was disconcerting, was what it was.

The sound of the front door opening startled him out of his thoughts, and William turned to face Dawn as she entered the house. “Hey,” she said briefly, heading into the kitchen.

William was used to longer and more elaborate greetings than that, and he followed her. “Hello,” he said warily. “How are you this afternoon?”

Dawn looked over at him, startled by his precise diction and diffident manner. It was hard to remember that this wasn’t Spike anymore, at least not until she noted the small changes in dress and mannerisms. “I’m fine.” She saw the bandage around his hand. “What happened to you?”

“I, uh, got caught in the sunlight,” William admitted in a low voice.

Dawn winced in sympathy. “Ouch. You hungry?”

“No, not really,” he replied, watching her.

“So what did you do today?”

It was small talk, which she had never really done with Spike before. Spike wasn’t big on the small talk, but William seemed to need it since he was standing there, obviously waiting for her to say something. “Not much, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I—I was wondering if you have a book I might borrow?” he asked wistfully. “Buffy asked me not to go into the bedrooms, and you don’t have a library, so…”

Dawn turned to look at him and a reluctant smile graced her features. “You were really bored today, huh?”

“I did try to watch the TV as Buffy suggested, but I found it all rather vulgar for my taste,” he said, screwing up his face in distaste.

Dawn resisted the urge to laugh at him. Hearing the vampire talk about television and its vulgarity reminded her of how much had changed with the aid of a simple spell. “Sure. I think I can find a book for you.”

William trailed her upstairs, halting at her doorway, unsure of his welcome. “You coming in?” Dawn asked as she rummaged through her shelves, trying to find something he might like.

He stepped through the doorway and then stopped. “Do you—do you not like me?”

Dawn turned to look at him, startled. He had the same expression on his face that Spike had had when she’d asked him if vampires slept. It was wistful and curious and fearful at the same time. “Why would you ask that?”

“You just don’t seem to care much for me,” William replied. “Your sister as well. I thought perhaps I had offended you in some way, and if I can make amends…”

Dawn sat back on her heels. “It’s not something you can fix.”

His face fell. “I see. I hurt you then.”

“Yeah, you did,” Dawn replied, her voice chilly. Seeing the crestfallen expression on William’s face, she sighed. “Well, not you, I guess. Spike.”

“It was still me, was it not?” he asked mournfully. “I wish I could apologize, but—” William wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, and he had no idea what the right words might be.

Dawn made a sudden decision. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But I—”

“No, really, William,” she said insistently. “You went and got your soul because of it, so you tried to fix it. That’s pretty special.”

William fixed her with an intense stare, and suddenly he looked like Spike again. “If there’s anything at all I can do, to make it up to you, just name it.”

It didn’t take but a moment for Dawn to realize that William was putting himself at her disposal, and she could see his loneliness and fear radiating out of his lean form. “Well, I know of one thing that always works for me.”

“Name it,” William said fervently, happy to be able to help, happier still to finally have company after a day filled with his own anguished thoughts.

Dawn smiled brightly, handing him a couple books. “For later,” she told him. “Right now, what we need is in the kitchen.”


	6. A Place to Rest

**“Love, we’re going home now,/where the vines clamber over the trellis…we return, across the crackling sea/like two blind birds to their wall,/to their nest in the distant spring:/ because love cannot always fly without resting,/our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:/our kisses head back home where they belong.” ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XXXIII**

Dawn stifled a giggle as William stared at her incredulously. “You must be joking,” he said flatly.

“Try it,” she insisted, holding out the spoon. “I promise it’ll be good.”

William didn’t move. “I don’t know, Dawn.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Dawn used every weapon in her arsenal—the dewy eyes, the breathless voice with just a hint of tears, the threat of hurt feelings with only her tone. It had worked on Spike innumerable times.

Apparently, Spike wasn’t so different than William after all. “Of course I trust you,” William said. “It’s simply that—raw dough? It that healthy?”

“I eat raw dough all the time, and I haven’t died,” Dawn pointed out logically. “Besides, you’re a vampire. You can’t get sick.”

That put things in a new light, and William took a tentative nibble of the gooey mess. After a second’s consideration, he stuck the whole spoon in his mouth. Dawn smiled smugly. “I told you so.”

Spike would have made some smart-ass remark, but William simply nodded. “You did. I shall not doubt your word again, Dawn. Forgive me?”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, rather taken aback by his apology. “No big deal.” Dawn started dropping spoonfuls onto the waiting cookie sheet. “They’re almost as good right out of the oven,” she confided. “I haven’t been able to decide what I like best yet.”

William licked off the last morsel of dough. “I would be happy to give you a second opinion.”

His words startled a laugh out of Dawn, who hadn’t realized that William had a sense of humor. Not that he was completely dull, but William seemed more solemn than Spike had been.

More solemn than Spike pre-soul anyway. Dawn hadn’t had the opportunity to decide what she thought of the souled Spike. “Do you have tea, or do you prefer an early dinner?” he inquired politely.

Dawn stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. “We can have tea whenever, if you want some.”

William shook his head. “No, when do you eat?”

“Whenever,” Dawn replied, turning so that he couldn’t see the grief in her eyes. She still remembered when Joyce was alive, and they would all sit down and eat together. After Buffy was called, it hadn’t happened very often, but it was a slightly more regular occurrence.

“You don’t eat together?” he asked in surprise.

“We used to when Mom was still alive,” Dawn explained. “When she and Buffy weren’t too busy, but it’s been harder since then. We’re never here at the same time.”

It was his turn to look away, not wanting her to read the emotion in her eyes. “I’m sorry. My mother—” He faltered. “She was quite ill. I—I don’t doubt that she’s long passed.”

Dawn very nearly replied with, “No shit, Sherlock. It’s been a hundred years.” She pulled herself back, however, knowing that it hadn’t been that long for William. In fact, his grief was fresher than hers. At least she’d had the opportunity to get used to the idea. It was a wonder that he hadn’t gone crazier than he was before, right after he got back to Sunnydale.

Instead, she said only, “I know. It really sucks.”

William was actually beginning to get used to some of this slang they were always using. He could interpret Dawn’s meaning well enough from her tone of voice and expression. “When did your mother—“

“Over a year ago,” she replied, proud that her voice didn’t shake. “She was sick too.”

William nodded, speaking from personal experience. “It’s difficult to watch a loved one take ill.”

Dawn nodded, but said nothing, and he decided to change the subject. “So if you do not have a set time for dinner, when will you eat?”

“I don’t know,” Dawn said. “Are you hungry?”

“A bit,” William replied, but those words didn’t quite describe what he was feeling. It was like a thirst that would never be quenched. He was doing his best to ignore it. “I could make something for us.”

Dawn’s eyes widened. “You know how to cook?”

“Well enough,” William replied, shrugging. “After mother became ill, someone had to do the cooking on Cook’s day off.”

Even if he couldn’t cook, it would be fun watching, Dawn decided. “Cool. You cook, and I’ll watch. I’m really good at that.”

~~~~~

When Buffy walked through the front door, she smelled food. It wasn’t the usual scents of burnt whatever, or one of Dawn’s weird concoctions. It smelled like dinner, like something she wouldn’t mind eating.

She walked into the kitchen to find William and Dawn chatting away like the best of friends. William clammed up as soon as he saw her.

“Hey, guys. What’s cooking?” Buffy knew she ought to apologize for overreacting earlier that day. Spike would have gotten snarky right back or said something rude. He might have pouted until she couldn’t stand it anymore. William, apparently, was also going to pout, but he was going to be very polite about it.

Somehow, Buffy found that even more irritating.

“William is making dinner,” Dawn said with a raised eyebrow, knowing exactly what was going on. The vampire had told her exactly what happened and what had been said that morning, and Dawn didn’t blame him for being angry. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t used to being a vampire.

Buffy managed a smile. “I can see that. What are you making?”

William answered stiffly. “I am using one of your mother’s recipes. She was very meticulous in her directions, Miss Summers.”

Dawn tried—and failed—to hide a smile. William’s method of showing his anger was bound to irritate Buffy to no end. “I showed him how to use the stove, but he’s pretty good at following directions.”

Buffy wanted to make a comment about how Spike never followed directions, but it didn’t seem like the appropriate time. Especially since she was still peeved at being called “Miss Summers.” “Buffy is just fine, William,” she said. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

He seemed to stiffen further, if that was possible. “As you wish.”

The silence seemed to stretch on, and Buffy had no idea what to say. Dawn smirked at her and then left the kitchen, announcing, “I’ve got homework to do.”

“Sp—William,” the Slayer began, knowing that she really did need to smooth things over.

“Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf,” he said quietly. “I realize that having me here is very inconvenient for you, and—”

“It’s not inconvenient!” Buffy protested. “What would make you think something like that?”

He turned and arched an eyebrow, and he suddenly looked exactly like Spike. It was Spike standing in front of her, looking at her as though she’d just asked something that should be as plain as the nose on her face.

Missing Spike hit her somewhere at gut level. She missed Spike like she would miss oxygen.

“Having me as a guest in your home is hardly proper,” he said firmly. “I’m not sure what our relationship was before, but we are certainly not related, nor was there any understanding between us. There is no chaperone, and—”

“I don’t need a chaperone, William,” Buffy interrupted. “I’ve been on my own for a while now, and if I want to have a guy living here with us, no big deal. No one is going to care.”

He turned from her, and Buffy could still see the tension in his shoulders even though his voice gave nothing away. “I do realize that I cannot go outside during the day, but I should like to take a walk tonight. If you could direct me to a park, I would most appreciate it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Buffy hedged. This wasn’t Spike; William might or might not have any idea of how to take care of himself. If he ran into trouble and got hurt, Buffy would never forgive herself.

William whirled to face her, his form trembling with repressed emotion. “You cannot keep me here! You—” He stopped short of threatening to leave. Where else could he go? He knew no one, and had no way to get any money. William didn’t even know where to get blood, and without it he would starve—if not to death, it would at the very least be terribly unpleasant.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said quietly. Without thinking about what she was doing, she moved forward, trapping him against the counter unless he wanted to push past her. She placed a gentle hand on his arm and spoke in a voice designed to soothe.

It was odd. Buffy had never really had any inclination to comfort Spike. The closest she had come was after Glory got done torturing him; she had offered a chaste kiss in thanks. He’d looked so hurt, so lost, she had wanted to let him know what he had gained that day.

There had been almost a year where comfort had been the furthest thing from her mind. She had, in fact, used him to comfort herself.

“You scared me this morning,” she said quietly. “I feel like I’m responsible for this mess, and I want to bring you through this in one piece. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Buffy wasn’t talking to him, William realized. She was talking to the person he’d been before they had done the spell—the one they kept calling Spike, hoping he wouldn’t notice. It hurt that they kept looking past him, at some other man with whom he had no acquaintance, never mind that they shared the same body.

No one ever really looked at him. No one ever really saw him.

“I understand,” he said quickly. “You did put out the fire, so I’m grateful.”

There was hurt in his eyes, and Buffy wondered what she had done wrong now. “It’s not safe for pretty much anybody after dark, William, and you’re not used to how things happen yet.”

“I’m a vampire, am I not?” William asked. “Surely—”

Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You didn’t remember to stay out of the sun,” she pointed out, trying to be gentle. “Yes, you’re a vampire, but you have the same instincts you did when…”

She trailed off, and William looked rueful. “You’re right, of course,” he said, beginning to pull away. “I suppose wandering around after dark was what got me here in the first place.” Then, wistfully, he added, “I would like to be able to go outside, however.”

Buffy felt horrible. He was probably feeling like a prisoner inside her house, and that wasn’t fair to him. There wasn’t any reason for him not to go outside, as long as he stayed close to the house, or—“Why don’t you come with me tonight?” she asked impulsively. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the Slayer knew it was a mistake. What if they ran into trouble? William would probably shriek and run in the other direction, leaving her to take care of the monster _and_ chase him down later.

Still, his entire face had lit up at the suggestion, and Buffy knew he’d probably been both bored and lonely all day. Spike had been a social creature, and it wouldn’t surprise her a bit to find out that William was the same. There was no way to retract her invitation now.

“That would be nice,” William admitted. He wanted to be outside. Although he had never been much for the outdoors, the forced time inside had made him long to see the sky. It was certainly true that one wanted what one could not have. “I wouldn’t be in the way, would I?”

It was the perfect out, and Buffy was too much of a coward to take it. “Of course not,” she replied cheerfully. “It’ll probably be dead tonight anyway.”

She bit back a groan as soon as the words left her mouth. She’d just jinxed them for sure.

~~~~~

“You’re what?” Willow demanded when Buffy told her what their plans were later that evening. The witch had insisted that she and Buffy do the cleanup since William had cooked. It had been a rather impressive meal, especially compared to what usually made its way to the table. Unlike the rest of them, William not only followed directions, but also seemed to have a knack for not burning things.

He’d seemed much more cheerful after their hearty compliments, for which Buffy was grateful. She was realizing that she hated to see Spike unhappy—and she didn’t particularly like the look on his alter ego either.

“I’m taking him out on patrol with me,” Buffy repeated, her voice becoming more uncertain towards the end. “Wills, he wanted to go outside, on a walk. It’s not safe for him to go by himself.”

“So you’re taking him to go fight the bad guys,” Willow said. “Explain how that makes any kind of sense.”

“It’s full of sense!” Buffy defended. “He wanted to go outside.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Take him to the park, bring him back, and then go on patrol.” She gave Buffy a suspicious look. “Are you sure this isn’t a way to try to jog his memory? Or bring back the demon or whatever?”

“No,” Buffy replied, but her voice was defensive enough so that Willow knew she’d probably hit the nail on the head. At the redhead’s expression, she sighed. “I want Spike back, Willow. I missed him while he was gone, and then he came back and—it’s like he’s right there, but out of reach.”

“That’s because he is right there and out of reach,” Willow said gently. “Buffy, you have to give this some time.” She lowered her voice even more. “I don’t know how long this is going to last.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? I thought you said the spell wasn’t permanent!”

“The spell I was trying to do isn’t permanent,” Willow assured her. “But the spell I did wasn’t supposed to do _that_. I have no idea what the long term results are going to be.” The witch hesitated, and then said quietly, “I’m going to keep researching. There might be a way to undo the spell while still leaving Spike protected, but maybe this was what the First wanted. Maybe it wanted to get rid of Spike.”

Buffy shook her head stubbornly. “No, Wills. You should have seen William today. He did that eyebrow thing that Spike always did. He’s—”

“He’s part of Spike, Buffy,” Willow reminded her. “William is basically the raw material that Spike came from. The rest of it will probably come back in time, but we don’t know that for sure. I think you should be prepared for the possibility that what you see is what you’re going to get.”

Buffy blinked back tears. If Willow was right, if the Spike she had known never came back, what then?

She knew the answer to that question, of course. Spike had gotten his soul for her. In a sense, that was what she was left with now, and so William was more than her responsibility.

William was hers, whether Spike came back or not.


	7. Delicate

**“‘Should one of us remember,/And one of us forget,/I wish I knew what each will do—/But who can tell as yet?’/‘Should one of us remember,/And one of us forget,/I promise you what I will do—/And I’m content to wait for you,/And not be sure as yet.’” ~Christina Rossetti, “He and She”**

William was relieved to find himself out under the sky, even if the sun was absent. Willow had been right in that his burn was already half-healed, but he had no desire to risk immolation again. He wondered idly how long it had been since he’d seen the sun, and thought briefly about asking Buffy.

He discarded the idea just as quickly. William didn’t know what to think about the woman. One minute she was looking at him as though she liked him—really liked him. The next minute she seemed cold and distant, almost rough.

Tonight, however, she seemed to be back to being careful in her speech and manners, and William had no desire to jeopardize the fragile truce.

Although, he had no idea what might have happened between them to cause her to react in that manner.

William glanced over at her briefly, catching her staring at him. She quickly looked somewhere else, but he was quite sure she had been staring. He went back to looking around at the houses and yards, so much more open than London had been. It was warmer too, and he wondered what season it was. He couldn’t really tell.

Buffy was staring at him again.

“Is something wrong?”

She started, as though her mind had been elsewhere. “No! Nothing’s wrong. Why would you ask?”

William hesitated, wondering if he ought to be polite and not press. In the next moment, he decided to discard propriety entirely. It wasn’t as if anyone else seemed to have much use for it. “You’re staring at me.”

“No, I’m not,” Buffy quickly denied.

Good manners had been bred too deeply into his bones for William to just toss them out the window. He allowed Buffy her polite fiction.

Until about thirty seconds later when he caught her watching him again. “You are too staring,” he insisted, catching her eye.

Buffy realized that there wasn’t a way out this time. “Sorry.”

Apparently, that was all she was going to say. William bit back a sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets. Any other day, he would have been in the clouds over being invited on a stroll with a pretty girl, but not today. It didn’t feel right.

“It’s strange,” Buffy said out of the blue. When he turned to look at her again, she explained, “You look like Spike, but you’re not. It’s—hard.”

His shoulders hunched up. “I am sorry to have taken your friend’s place. I understand how that might be distressing.”

William had the same look on his face as Spike had when she rejected him—it was all hurt and vulnerability, but this time there was no tough-guy veneer to gloss over the top. Buffy realized that it was easier to pretend with Spike because he did it all the time. She could fool herself that he wouldn’t let her harsh words bother him.

With William, there was no pretense. Everything was right there on his face—he wore his heart on his sleeve, just as Spike had, but without the Big Bad persona as a mask.

Buffy couldn’t help herself. She placed a hand on his bare forearm, feeling the coolness of his skin, the strength of his sinew. “It’s not your fault, William. I know you think I don’t want you here, but that’s not true. It might not feel that way, but I want _all_ of you here.”

“I don’t know this other man you keep speaking of,” William said, sounding a little angry. “You keep talking as if he is me, but he’s not.”

Buffy bit her lip. He was Spike, though—or Spike was him. “There’s a lot of you in Spike,” she finally said. “That’s—” She had been about to say that Spike was the guy she was in love with, but stopped herself. William was not the person to whom she wanted to confess her feelings. Spike should be the first to know.

At the same time, she wanted to say something that would comfort him. “If—when Spike comes back, you won’t go anywhere, William,” she finally said, trying to reassure him. “It’ll be just like you got all your memories back.”

William wanted to ask, “What memories?” If he didn’t have them, he couldn’t very well miss them. “Do I want those memories back?”

Buffy flinched as though he’d struck her. She hadn’t even thought of it from his perspective. Wasn’t this better for him? William was confused, sure, but Spike had always been a fast learner. In time, William would find his place in her world. Wasn’t it better for him to not have all those memories that had been driving him crazy?

Was she just being a selfish bitch again?

Buffy opened her mouth to reply and then saw the vampire rising from the grave. They had made it to the cemetery, and it looked like it was time for her to go to work. The fledgling was an easy kill, as they usually were, but she heard a muffled cry from behind her.

She whirled to see two vampires grabbing William. Buffy wouldn’t have had to worry about Spike. He’d have taken care of the two vamps with aplomb. William was flailing around wildly.

The Slayer bit back a sigh. Maybe it was selfish, but having Spike back would make her life a little easier.

Suddenly, there were three more vampires, and Buffy felt a thrill of fear. Five wasn’t a lot, and it would have been perfectly doable with Spike at her side, but William was the one by her side tonight. She could hardly count on him to take care of himself, let alone give her any help.

She had to get them both out of there as quickly as possible. Buffy looked around for an escape route, moving closer to William, who had broken free from the two vampires somehow. Buffy heard another noise from him, and she glanced back to see that he had hit one of the vamps in the nose and was staring at his own hand in disbelief.

“Can you fight?” Buffy demanded.

There was still a part of William that wanted to tell her that gentlemen didn’t fight. He wanted to tell her that he preferred to keep his mind on the higher virtues. He was scared, and if he’d still been capable of it, William was certain that he would have fainted by now.

At the same time, he knew they were fighting for their lives. A gentleman didn’t allow harm to come to a lady, especially not one who had taken him under her protection. “I can try.”

She smiled at him then, and there was a fire in her eyes that made the breath catch in his chest. “Good. We’re going to run home. You know the way?”

William nodded. At least he thought he did, but he had no plans on leaving Buffy’s side anyway. She broke into a flurry of motion, and William realized why they called her the Slayer. She was grace incarnate, her golden hair flying around her in a cloud.

The lines of poetry entered his head without him searching for the words. “‘She walks in beauty like the night,’” he murmured to himself, getting lost in the moment as he had so often done before.

His life had never really been in danger before.

The vampires had tightened their circle, and Buffy found her movements hampered by their proximity. Had she been alone, it would have been a simple matter to evade them and head home. She would have come back later with reinforcements, or managed to take them out herself. With William there, however, it wasn’t possible, and he looked as though he’d been nailed to the ground with fear.

Willow had been right. She never should have brought William with her on patrol. It had been stupid and dangerous, and if something happened to him she would never forgive herself.

It seemed that she couldn’t help but hurt Spike, in whatever incarnation.

One of the vampires grabbed her around the neck, and when she tried to kick back a second vampire grabbed her leg, catching her off-balance. Two other vampires were back to going after William, and Buffy knew they would have him in a moment, since he wasn’t obviously wasn’t paying any attention to them.

“William! Run!”

For a second, Buffy thought he hadn’t heart her. In the next moment, he was at her side, having evaded his own pursuers, a well-placed punch causing the vampire behind her to let go. Buffy twisted and kicked with her other foot, catching the vampire holding her leg in the face. She managed to get a stake in that one and then grabbed William’s hand.

Buffy ran, keeping a tight hold on William. She hesitated to head right back home, since she wasn’t sure if they were following her and had no desire to find them waiting outside her house for her some night.

Thankfully, William’s vampire-status meant that they didn’t have to stop and rest until she was tired, and they wound up in his old cemetery, leaning against the side of his old crypt.

Buffy’s feet had carried her there out of habit, and she flushed when she realized it. “You okay?” she asked once she had her breath back.

“I should ask you that,” William replied, turning to face her. “That monster had you by the neck.”

Buffy didn’t bother telling him that he was a monster too. It would be a lie because William was anything but a monster, whatever his undead status might be. “I’m fine,” she assured him. At his doubtful expression, she hastened on. “Really, William. I’m fine. It takes a lot to hurt me.”

“I hurt you,” he said softly. Buffy looked surprised. “Dawn told me—a little. I asked her why you were—why you had—”

He couldn’t find the words, and so she supplied them. “Acted like such a bitch?”

William’s eyes widened as he stared at her. “I would never—”

“I said it, you didn’t,” Buffy reminded him. “Besides, it’s true. What did Dawn say?”

William looked away uncomfortably. “She said that we had fought and I hurt you, so I left town.”

Well, that was true enough, and Buffy had to give her younger sister points for getting to the heart of the matter without going into details. She had the feeling that if William knew exactly what he’d done, he would probably fall on his own sword or something equally as honorable.

And stupid. Neither of them needed to do any more stupid things.

“That’s pretty much it in a nutshell,” Buffy replied. “I’m really sorry.”

“So you said,” he replied, still refusing to look at her. “It’s quite alright. I understand that this must be difficult for you. I’m not—I’m not him.”

Buffy sighed. “No, you’re not.” It would have taken a blind person not to see the hurt on his face, and she quickly added, “That’s okay.”

William didn’t reply, and Buffy decided to grab the bull by the horns. He deserved to know why she was having trouble adjusting, why she kept snapping at him. “You did good back there,” she said standing, reaching out to pull him up with her.

“I froze,” he replied bitterly. “I am not a brave man, Buffy.”

“Yes, you are,” she contradicted. “You didn’t run, and you popped that guy in the nose. That’s not something a coward would do.”

The sincerity in her voice startled him. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course,” Buffy replied quickly. She was taken aback by the wonder in his eyes, as though she had just handed him the moon. Or as if no one had even given him a compliment before. “I lied before,” she confessed.

William blinked. Her words weren’t what he had expected. “Lied about what?” he asked, confused.

“About us, our relationship,” Buffy replied. “We weren’t just friends.”

“You—and I were…” William trailed off. That didn’t seem right. She didn’t treat him as a lady treated her paramour. Unless, of course, the fight they’d had that ended in him leaving had also ended their relationship. William still didn’t understand, however. He would never break off an engagement. No matter how much he had changed.

Buffy frowned, unsure of how to phrase it so that she didn’t induce maximum wig. “We were close.”

“We ended our engagement?”

The Slayer burst out laughing; she couldn’t help it. Her and Spike engaged? At the look on William’s face, Buffy quickly sobered. “I wasn’t laughing at you,” she said. “It was more at the idea of Spike and I engaged. I—we—didn’t have that kind of relationship.” Unless there was a spell involved, Buffy silently added.

William’s eyes widened in horror. “I—I would never! No matter how much I might have changed, I would never do what you’re suggesting!”

Buffy’s heart sank. So he’d guessed, and now they’d have to put him on suicide watch or something, and then what was she going to do. They couldn’t be with William all the time.

“I would never use a young woman so! If we didn’t have an agreement, I would never have—” he exclaimed, almost beside himself with horror and shame. Surely she wasn’t suggesting that he had treated her like a prostitute, a whore. She was no such thing, and if he had—

“You didn’t use me, William,” Buffy said, realizing now what he was afraid of. “I—” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t tell him that she had been the user in their relationship. “You—Spike loved me very much.”

She could admit that now. She could admit to William what she had never said aloud to Spike. The relief was evident on his face until another suspicion entered his eyes. “You didn’t love him back.”

It was a flat statement, made by a man who had all too much experience with such things, and Buffy wondered what had put that emotion into his voice. “William—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He said it the way Spike would have said it. It was the same inflection, the same tone, the same raw emotion under the words. It would have been a mercy to lie, Buffy knew.

She couldn’t. “No.”

William nodded once. “I see. That makes a great deal of sense, I suppose.” It didn’t, not really. She hadn’t loved Spike, perhaps, but William knew himself—or at least he thought he did. He knew what he did with rejection; he ran away in tears.

What had he done?

~~~~~

The darkness was supposed to be a friend to him, but William got no comfort from the silent basement. Noises he hadn’t noticed through his tears the night before had come alive. He could distinguish the smells of the various occupants, hear their heartbeats. Earlier, William had realized he could sense the blood rushing underneath the Slayer’s skin.

He could sense it, and it all made him feel slightly sick.

Neither he nor Buffy had said anything until they had reached the house. She had put her hand on his arm and said, “William, when Spike left I missed him a lot. If I seem short or angry or anything it’s because I still miss him. He was—he was very important to me.”

It was nice to know, in a way. Apparently, there was at least one woman who’d had feelings of some sort for him. Still, William was not Spike, and the corollary to her words was that _he_ had taken Spike’s place.

_He_ had taken Spike away from her. And _he_ was not nearly as important.

Perhaps it was selfish, but William wanted her to see him for what he was. He wanted Buffy to know _who_ he was. He also had no desire to lose himself again.

William didn’t know anything about being Spike.


	8. Giving and Receiving

**“O Lady! we receive but what we give,/And in our life alone does nature live:/Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud!/And would we aught behold, of higher worth,/Than that inanimate cold world allowed/To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,/Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth,/A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud/Enveloping the Earth—/And from the soul itself must there be sent/A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,/Of all sweet sounds the life and element!” ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge, “Dejection, An Ode”**

He was hungry, and yet he had no desire to eat. William knew that his craving was not for food, but for blood, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to satisfy it.

There had been dark dreams to haunt his sleep, although he couldn’t recall the details. All he could remember was that there had been a girl—a woman—who had called him William and shattered his heart. Even though the face had been unclear, he was certain that it was Buffy, given what she had told him the previous night.

William’s eyes were drawn unwillingly toward the small, cardboard box that held his things. He hadn’t had the courage to open it yet, but he knew he needed to, knew he needed to find out all he could about Spike.

Rising from his cot, he went to the box and opened it slowly, pulling out various items one by one. There were a few shirts, mostly in black, and an extra pair of jeans. There were a few battered books whose titles he recognized, including a slim volume of poetry by Coleridge and another by Dante Rossetti.

Other things he didn’t recognize, like the slim cases with the metallic discs inside, whose purpose he couldn’t begin to guess.

There was nothing of himself here, though, except for the books. The rest of it was meaningless and gave him no clue as to the man he was currently supposed to be.

A sound from behind had him whirling around. He was feeling a little jumpy right now, wondering what else might happen while he wasn’t looking. Willow gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry I scared you.”

William was about to protest that she hadn’t scared him, but he decided not to bother. Why lie when they both knew the truth? “Can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you’d eaten,” she said hesitantly. Willow had noticed that the supply of blood Buffy had stocked up on wasn’t much depleted. Spike—or William—was obviously not eating much, and that worried her.

William refused to meet her eyes. “I am not very hungry, thank you,” he said politely.

Willow put on her resolve face. “You have to eat something.”

She watched as his hands clenched into fists and then opened again. He was wound up tight, and Willow found that she wasn’t surprised. Spike had been constantly in motion, full of energy—almost Tigger-like. William was much more sedate, but she had a feeling that it was mostly repression, not an internal change. He was holding himself back, and he was nearly ready to explode.

“Really, I’m fine.”

“Do I have to get Buffy?”

His eyes flashed angrily. “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“Except that you’re not eating,” Willow pointed out quietly. “William, vampires need blood, and that’s what you are. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

William wanted to believe her but found it impossible. There seemed something inherently shameful in being a vampire, especially when the vampire was as inept as he seemed to be. “Why hasn’t anyone killed me?”

It was a question that entered his mind with increasing regularity. Although Buffy and Willow had responded to variations on the theme, no one had explained why Buffy hadn’t killed him yet. Wasn’t that what she did? Last night’s expedition had certainly seemed to indicate as much.

Willow hesitated. “You haven’t done anything evil for a while,” she hedged.

“But I hurt you in the past?” William pressed. “I hurt Dawn, and Buffy. So why hasn’t anyone killed me?”

Willow made a face. “It’s not that simple, William.” She sighed. “Look, if I tell you, will you come upstairs and eat?”

He nodded eagerly, thinking he might finally get some answers. William wanted to know what he had done to Buffy, because he was certain that it was bad. Apparently, Willow wasn’t going to say anything until after he ate, because she heated up a mug full of blood and stood there, watching him in silence.

With a grimace, William drank it down as quickly as possible, and then gave her his best pleading look. “Now will you tell me?”

Willow sighed. “It’s complicated. Mostly, it was just that Buffy could never quite manage to kill you, and then there was the chip—”

“The chip?”

Willow frowned, wondering how she was going to explain that one. “The government messed with your head so that you couldn’t hurt anybody.”

William wasn’t sure he understood, but he had the feeling that it might be impossible to explain things to him. “Very well. So I stopped hurting people? Is that when I helped Buffy save the world?”

“No, you helped before that. It wasn’t until…” Willow trailed off. She was on a fool’s errand. There was no way to explain to William the full story, not without giving him more information than he could possibly handle. “You helped Buffy save the world after that, and you helped take care of Dawn. That’s pretty much when things changed.” She laid her hand over his. “It doesn’t matter when it happened, really. All that matters is that you did change. Being a vampire doesn’t matter, William. It’s what you do.”

He couldn’t help but believe her. The sincerity in her eyes and voice was proof enough—and she was touching him. It felt good to have someone touch him in concern and friendship.

The sound of the door opening broke the magic of the moment, and the sound of a man’s voice startled him. “Willow? You here?”

“In the kitchen, Xander,” Willow called out, pulling back. She smiled at the dark-haired man in greeting. “Hey there.”

“How’s it going?” Xander asked, his eyes touching on the vampire briefly.

Willow hesitated. “It’s going good. William, this is Xander, one of our friends.” She gave Xander a meaningful look. “You already know William.”

“Yeah, I do,” Xander replied, his tone guarded but friendly enough. He stuck out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you again,” he quipped.

William shook hands warily, feeling uneasy about meeting another stranger who seemed to know all about him. “Likewise,” he said formally.

Xander glanced over at Willow. “Are you ready to go?”

The witch let out her held breath. She hadn’t been sure of how Xander would react to this changed Spike, but the meeting had gone better than she’d hoped for. “Sure. I’ll see you later, William.”

He called a faint goodbye, watching the easy camaraderie between the two of them, feeling as though he was on the outside again.

And William still didn’t have solid information.

~~~~~

“Thanks, Xander,” Willow said quietly once they were in the car.

Her best friend glanced over at her curiously. “Thanks for what?”

“For being nice,” Willow replied. “I didn’t think you would do that for Spike.”

“That’s not Spike,” Xander replied easily.

Willow raised an eyebrow. “It looks like Spike.”

“Maybe, but that’s not him.” Xander took a deep breath, trying to explain. “It’s not just the spell, Wills. He got his soul. It’s one thing for Angel to get cursed, but Spike went after his.”

Willow stared at him in shock. “I didn’t think that would matter to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Xander replied. “Spike’s still a vampire, which means he’s still evil.”

“But you were nice.”

Xander looked uncomfortable. Spike getting his soul, without being cursed, threw a monkey wrench into his reasoning. Evil things didn’t want to stop being evil, by definition, and yet that’s exactly what Spike had done. It made no sense. While Xander had no intention of admitting that Spike had changed, he couldn’t be cruel in good conscience.

“I can be nice,” Xander said defensively.

“Uh huh.” Willow’s tone was extremely dry. “Amazingly enough, the world didn’t come to an end.”

“He’s evil.”

“So was I, at least for a while.”

~~~~~

William contented himself with the books that Dawn had loaned him. He longed for the sunshine, but he had no desire to be burned to ashes. The thought of living the rest of his life—which might be forever—never seeing the light of day was frightening, but he supposed it was something he would get used to in time.

The emptiness of the house was strange to him. At home, his mother had always been around, as well as a servant or two. William had never truly been alone, even though it had often felt that way.

He was rather relieved when Dawn came home to brighten things up a bit. He had decided the day before that he liked having the girl around. His own sister had died when he was about Dawn’s age, and so William felt some connection with her for that reason.

More than that, however, Dawn had been unfailingly kind to him. William appreciated that more than anything else.

Dawn, for her part, liked having someone there when she got back from school. It reminded her of the times when she was little, before Joyce had started back to work full time. Her mom had always been waiting for her—to hear about her day, to find out how she was, to fix a snack. William was almost pathetically grateful to see her, and Dawn found it refreshing.

It was nice to have someone excited about you coming home.

William watched silently as Dawn fixed a snack and told him about her day. He had no idea what she was telling him most of the time, but it was important that he listen. He knew that much, at least. When she finally wound down, she looked at him. “So what did you do today?”

He shrugged. “Mostly just read.”

Dawn knew that both Buffy and Willow had been concerned about getting William to eat. “Did you eat anything?”

William made a face. “Yes, I did. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Maybe because we know how weird drinking blood is, and we care about you,” Dawn suggested in return.

That got him thinking. “May I ask a question?”

She smiled. “Shoot.”

“Are Willow and—” William hesitated, trying to remember the strange name. “—Xander together?”

“Xander came by today?” Dawn peered at William, trying to detect any damage that might have been done, but he appeared unhurt. She breathed a sigh of relief. William seemed more fragile than Spike had ever been. At his hesitant nod, she frowned slightly. “Together? No, they’re just good friends.”

William nodded, as though satisfied. “I see.”

Dawn could see the wheels turning and felt some small sense of alarm. If William was developing a crush on Willow, she knew it needed to be nipped in the bud immediately. “William, Willow is—” She wondered if he even knew about this kind of thing. He seemed so naive. “Willow just lost someone.”

“She’s in mourning?” he asked innocently.

Dawn nodded, deciding that it was close enough. “Yeah. It happened a few months ago, and it was pretty bad.”

“I am most sorry to hear that,” William replied sincerely. “Do you think I ought to offer my condolences? Were they engaged?”

Dawn hid a wince. So much for dancing around the subject. “I don’t know, William. No one ever talks about Tara anymore.”

“Tara—” It was a woman’s name, and yet all Dawn had said led William to believe that they were—“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Willow doesn’t like boys.”

William blinked, trying to process that. “You’re saying that she prefers women?”

“Yeah,” Dawn said, watching his face carefully for any sign of what he was thinking. “She and Tara were in love.”

William thought about it. “They were in love.”

“Uh huh.”

“And she died?”

“She was murdered.”

“How horrible!” William exclaimed. He wasn’t sure about the propriety or impropriety of the love between women, but it was love, was it not? And he hadn’t any idea what this time and place made of such things. Perhaps it was considered commonplace, and Willow had been kind.

Perhaps she might consent to be his friend.

“It was horrible. Tara was really great.” Dawn hadn’t felt comfortable talking to anyone else about it, but William was looking at her so sympathetically that the story started pouring out. Before she knew it, he had led her to the couch in the living room and was holding her hand and letting her cry.

How did he do it? Dawn wondered. Spike would probably have been completely thrown off by her tears, but William was sitting there calmly, patting her hand, letting her talk. He made her feel safe, just like Spike had the summer Buffy was gone.

It was Spike, and it wasn’t, and Dawn finally just put her head on his shoulder. “I miss her.”

“I know,” he said softly, because it was obvious to him. “I imagine you will for some time.”

“She liked you,” Dawn said suddenly. “Tara did, I mean.”

William wasn’t sure how to take that, but it sounded nice. There had been someone who liked him. “And you?”

“I loved you,” Dawn said simply. “I still do.”

William held her tightly.

~~~~~

It had been a long day. There had been the double shift at the restaurant when one of the other servers got sick—although Buffy hadn’t minded too much. It meant more money, and her job wasn’t the hellhole that had been the Doublemeat. Of course, once she got off work, it was after dark, and there was patrol to do.

She came in the back and slumped against the wall. Buffy wasn’t sure she was up for dealing with William this evening even though she wanted to see him. She had asked Willow to make sure he ate and had asked Dawn to keep an eye on him once she got back from school. The Slayer’s biggest fear was that he would do something stupid that would result in his getting killed.

Thinking about Spike being gone forever made her stomach ache.

Tomorrow was her day off, however, and so Buffy had plans to spend it with him. She had no idea what they would do, but she wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to be near him in a way she hadn’t allowed herself the previous year.

After a moment spent gathering her strength, she followed the voices into the living room. Dawn was sprawled over the couch, leaning against William, who was actually looking relaxed. He usually sat and stood ram-rod straight.

“Hey, guys,” Buffy said, seating herself in the chair. Her eyes drifted to the screen. “Whatcha watching?”

“_Casablanca_,” Dawn replied. “It was on the old movie channel.”

Buffy leaned back in the chair, letting the weariness overtake her. “What do you think of it so far, William?”

“It’s brilliant,” he murmured, obviously entranced. “It’s like a novel one can see.”

Buffy and Dawn exchanged an amused look, and then they focused on the TV once again. The Slayer had seen the movie before, and so it wasn’t long before she drifted off, lulled by the sounds coming from the television and the knowledge that Dawn and William were there.

When the movie was over, Dawn stood, yawning. “I need to get to bed.”

“You’re tired,” William observed. “I’m sorry for keeping you up. I—”

“It was fun,” Dawn said firmly. “I’m glad we did this.”

A shy smile touched his lips. “Did we do this often?”

“Not often enough.” She looked over at her sister. “I guess we should probably wake her up.”

A strange look passed over William’s face, and he shook his head. “No, let her sleep. I’ll see her to her bed.”

Dawn gave him a considering look and then nodded. “Okay. Good night, William.”

William stood over Buffy, watching her. She looked different in her sleep, softer somehow. She almost looked like a woman he might fall in love with. He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face, and then drew his hand back immediately. It was foolish to think she might love him now when she hadn’t before.

Silly to think she could care for him, someone who was so obviously beneath her. She needed a warrior, and he was nothing but a failed poet.

William stooped and picked her up, and her weight was nothing to him. She fit in his arms as though she was made to do so.

He only wished that were the case.


	9. Nightmares

**“Maybe—though I do not bleed—I am wounded, walking/along one of the rays of your life./In the middle of the jungle the water stops me,/the rain that falls with its sky./Then I touch the heart that fell, raining:/there I know it was your eyes/that pierced me, into my grief’s vast hinterlands…” ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet LXX**

The screaming woke all of them. Buffy was the first out of her room, but Willow and Dawn’s heads emerged before she could make it to the staircase. “Buffy?”

The Slayer looked back at her sister and best friend. “I’ve got it, guys. Don’t worry about it.”

Dawn and Willow exchanged looks. Neither one of them thought they could help worrying about it. Willow stayed by her door. She had just gotten home and hadn’t even had time to get into her nightclothes. “Are you sure you don’t want some help, Buffy?”

“I’ve got it,” Buffy repeated, hurrying down the stairs. “You guys get some sleep.”

She took little care for her own safety, trusting her Slayer skills to prevent her from falling headlong down the stairs. The screams had died down to whimpers by the time Buffy reached the basement, and she hurried over to William’s cot.

He was thrashing around in his sleep, his bare chest shining like alabaster in the dim light. She wondered belatedly if William slept with more clothes than Spike did, because she had a feeling that they would both be embarrassed if he didn’t. “William? Come on, you need to wake up,” she said, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

His cries increased in volume, and they tore at her heart. “Sweetie? Please wake up. You’re just fine, I promise. I’m right here.”

This was the second time she had woken up that night. The first time it had been the sound of her bedroom door closing that had brought her out of sleep. It had taken her a minute to realize that William must have carried her upstairs. She had finished getting ready for bed with a curiously warm feeling in the pit of her stomach.

That had been a more pleasant way to wake up than hearing William’s screams echoing through the house. It was a miracle no one had called the cops, as loud as he had been.

It took her another couple minutes to wake him, uttering nonsense words of comfort the entire time. The sounds William was making were not quite human, and Buffy wondered if he was going crazy again. When his eyes popped open, she frowned. “Spike?”

“Buffy?” For one brief moment, the Slayer thought that Spike had somehow returned to her. The next instant disabused her of that idea. “Buffy? Did I commit such horrors as that? I watched—”

William didn’t finish, not wanting to put into words what he’d just seen. He had watched himself do things he hadn’t thought possible—such terrible things. “Come upstairs, William,” she said softly.

He shook his head. “No, I cannot. I—you must kill me, Buffy. You must! What things I did! I don’t deserve to live! What if I do it again? What if—”

“You won’t,” Buffy said soothingly. “It’s going to be just fine, William, but you have to come upstairs with me now.”

It had been a mistake to leave him in the basement; Buffy could see that now. Willow had said that the First wouldn’t be able to use his demon against the soul after the spell, but that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t prey on his mind in other ways. What if William decided to kill himself? Spike wouldn’t have committed suicide, Buffy was certain.

William, however—Buffy didn’t know what William would do. She didn’t know him at all.

“Where?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“My bedroom.”

His eyes widened in horror. “I cannot! It’s most improper.”

“Are you really that worried about doing something bad again?” Buffy asked patiently. For once, she didn’t feel anger or distaste or impatience as she looked at him. It wasn’t even pity. It was—something unheard of, she was certain. Something soft.

He swallowed hard. Seeing her there, sitting on the edge of his bed, her voice gentle, William couldn’t help but wonder if she wasn’t an angel. What would an angel be doing comforting a demon, though? “I might. It said—”

Buffy knew her intuition had been correct. “What said?”

“I—I don’t know,” he faltered. “It was—there was a voice. Am I mad?” he asked her plaintively.

“No more than usual,” she replied with a smile to let him know she was teasing. “Come upstairs now, William. It can’t get at you with me there.”

“Do you promise?”

“Absolutely.”

William rose, still appearing reluctant, and Buffy saw that he was wearing his jeans. That couldn’t be comfortable. She would have to find him something else to wear. Come to think of it, she probably should find him a lot of something elses to wear. The box she had retrieved from Clem wasn’t very big, nor did it have much in it.

For his part, William was looking around for his shirt. It wasn’t right to be undressed in front of a woman, even though she didn’t seem bothered by it.

“What are you looking for?”

“My shirt,” he said helplessly. “I shouldn’t—you shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. She’d gotten the impression that William was modest, but his attitude was so far removed from Spike’s that she very nearly burst into laughter. “Really, I don’t mind.”

He turned startled blue eyes up to meet hers, and the heartache there broke the silliness immediately. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“But I do,” Buffy replied, touching his cheek. “Trust me, William. It’s going to get better.”

“Alright.” There was so much trust in his voice that Buffy nearly started crying. She wanted to warn him not to trust her, that she had a tendency to break him. Well, that was over. Buffy wasn’t going to break him this time.

William _knew_ this wasn’t right. Buffy was wearing a tank top and shorts and showing more skin than he’d ever seen in his life. _He_ was dressed immodestly, and he knew his mother would be aghast if she could see him now.

His mother—William’s mind skittered away from that memory. He had dreamed the most horrible things, and all along that voice had been telling him that he was worthless, that he was evil, that he would be better off dead.

William wasn’t sure that he didn’t agree with that.

Still, Buffy’s hand was warm in his, and he couldn’t help notice that it was the first time a woman had held his hand. Even if she didn’t love him, holding hands showed that she cared.

He hoped.

William balked at the doorway. “This isn’t right, Buffy.”

“Why isn’t it right?” Buffy asked. “We’ve done this before. Or we’ve shared a bed before. It really doesn’t hurt.”

“I really ought not to take advantage,” he protested weakly.

Buffy didn’t bother telling him that he had taken advantage all the time and that she’d enjoyed every minute of it. “I invited you here, William. This isn’t about taking advantage.”

It was true enough. Besides, William rather thought that the nightmares might not reach him here. “Alright,” he finally said meekly.

Buffy gave him a satisfied nod. “Why don’t I find you something more comfortable to wear?”

At this point, William wasn’t inclined to argue with Buffy over anything. He was tired and hurting, and he wanted to go to sleep. He didn’t care how he got there. So William dressed the one-size-fits-all medical scrubs she found for him. He laid down in her bed and didn’t protest when he felt her arm brush his.

Instead, William drifted off to sleep, feeling at peace for the first time since he’d woken in Buffy’s basement.

~~~~~

He was so beautiful as he slept. Buffy hadn’t often gotten a chance to watch him, to memorize the way his lashes fluttered against pale cheeks, to see the blue veins stark against pale skin. She loved the fact that William had no concept of hair gel, and his curls were wild and untamed.

She loved him.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

She loved Spike.

Buffy paused to see if the world was going to end, and when it didn’t, she breathed a sigh of relief. (Of course, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t end tomorrow, but that was the life of the Slayer.)

How long had she loved him? Had she loved him since he got himself tortured for Dawn? If she hadn’t died and then been so messed up, would things have been different? Was it the soul? Was it William—seeing the softer side of him?

It was ridiculously easy to love him now. Easy because of the soul, easy because she had seen what he had truly been. Now that Buffy knew William, she could recognize hints in Spike of the gentle man who lay next to her.

It was easy to love Spike because she missed him so damn much.

Telling him she loved him was a completely different story, however. Buffy had no idea how she was going to say the words. How was she supposed to force them past her lips, given all she had done—given all Spike had done? William didn’t even know the worst of it, and the Slayer had no desire to have him find out.

Although, with the First sending him nightmares of his past, Buffy had no idea how long she’d be able to protect him.

William stirred slightly in his sleep. From the sound of things, he wasn’t having a nightmare. After a few minutes, his eyes fluttered open and he stared at her in sleepy wonder, even though Buffy knew she probably had pillow hair. “Good morning.”

William was suddenly wide awake as he realized that he truly was in Buffy’s bed. He’d been sure it was a dream.

Oh, dear. If she knew what he’d been dreaming—

“Are you okay?”

She was staring at him with concern in her eyes, and William realized that it wasn’t a dream. Buffy had come down to the basement to wake him from his nightmare. She had been almost unbearably kind to him. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said, gulping and looking around for a quick escape.

“William.” Her hand was on his shoulder—warm hand, cool skin—on _his bare skin_. William found that he wasn’t going to be able to get up now. Not unless he wanted to embarrass himself completely. “It’s really okay.”

“But you and I aren’t—” William wasn’t even sure what they weren’t, just that they probably shouldn’t be in bed together. Especially when he was having _those_ kinds of dreams. Or when his body reacted to her proximity in _that_ way

He could smell her, he realized suddenly. William had noticed that his sense of smell was that much more acute, but he hadn’t realized how much so until her scent absolutely overwhelmed him.

Buffy decided that she had better leave him alone for a while so that he could compose himself. She had no idea why he was looking like a deer in headlights, but he was. “I’m going to get us some coffee, okay?” she said. “Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll bring up some clothes for you.”

William had no idea why she was being so kind, especially after what he’d seen in his nightmares. She had no business being this way. She ought to have killed him. This morning, however, in the light of day, he wasn’t quite so inclined towards death. “Thank you.”

She left him then, and William gave a sigh of relief. Perhaps a shower _would_ help. He would simply have to think about something else for a bit.

~~~~~

Buffy had no idea what had gotten into William. She had expected him to be a little weirded out about sharing a bed. It wasn’t like he’d been in any shape to really think about what he’d been doing the night before. Still, it was almost like—

A sly smile curved her lips. There had been the sounds before he woke, and the way he’d waited for her to leave before he got up…Spike had actually done the same thing once or twice, before they’d slept together. She’d known what he was hiding, but had been content to let it pass.

The smile died. Buffy knew how badly she’d screwed things up. They had both been at fault, but she was going to have to move carefully. William was fragile, more so than Spike.

Or not. William had accepted all of this with remarkable aplomb, and Spike had always had a soft underbelly. All she had to do was to remember his words. Every night he saved her.

Well, it was time for her to return the favor.

Buffy wrinkled her nose as she sifted through the box of Spike’s things. None of this was really appropriate right now. The unrelieved black was old anyway. She felt something in her belly twist at the thought of that blue shirt. Not the best style, but the color…

Blue definitely suited him. She had a little extra money she’d been saving for a new pair of boots, but she could manage to get a couple shirts for him. He’d probably do better for the variety, and maybe it would help him feel a little more at home.

Buffy finally grabbed a pair of jeans and the brown button down shirt he’d been wearing when she was invisible. Spike must have sewn the buttons back on, and she found herself grateful for that. She had liked that shirt, even though she’d never said anything.

Thinking back on it, Spike had been trying for her—wearing different clothes, letting her come to him, saying things that made her insides melt. Or her insides would have melted if she hadn’t been so numb. It was no wonder that it had been Spike who made her feel.

She had never said anything, when Spike had noticed the littlest change.

Buffy tossed the clothing over her shoulder with a sigh and went to get their coffee. Just because she’d been stupid in the past didn’t mean she had to be stupid now. She could be smart about this relationship.

After all, William needed her.

~~~~~

William was trying to figure out what he was supposed to wear since Buffy had taken the jeans he’d been wearing the night before. He assumed she was going to clean them, but it left him with nothing to put on at the moment.

“Hey.”

William turned, hanging onto the towel around his waist for dear life. “I wasn’t certain—”

“I brought your clothes,” Buffy said. “And coffee.” She put the mugs down on the dresser. “I figured we could eat once you got dressed.”

“Of—of course,” he stammered, taking the jeans and shirt from her outstretched hand. “I—I’ll just go—”

“I can turn around,” Buffy said, doing just that.

William knew he was blushing. There was no way he wasn’t completely red-faced right now, because she was standing there, and he wasn’t wearing anything. It was rather obvious that she wasn’t going to leave, however, and so he dropped the towel and scrambled into the pants and shirt. Clearing his throat nervously, he ran his hands down his pant legs.

His palms might not be sweaty, but they certainly ought to be.

“Coffee?” Buffy asked brightly, pretending not to notice his embarrassment and holding out a mug.

“Thank you,” he replied formally, hoping that if he could keep his distance he might be able to control his reactions to her.

“You want to come downstairs?” she asked. “I made sure the blinds were all closed.”

William nodded, following her silently. He had no desire to disrupt the truce they seemed to have reached, but he was curious. Buffy seemed to have turned her reaction to him completely around. “I don’t understand.”

She turned to look at him. “What don’t you understand, William?”

Her voice was so gentle. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

Buffy found that she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I haven’t always been very nice,” she confessed in a low voice. “Spike and I—we had a really complicated history. Sometimes it’s hard to know what to feel about him.”

“But you feel something?”

“Yeah, I do. I’ve been taking my confusion out on you, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair.”

Somehow William knew that Buffy apologizing to him—or to Spike—was something akin to the sun rising in the west. The look in her eyes—he almost thought she might care. He’d never had a woman look at him like that. “I forgive you.”

It was that simple. Every word was imbued with perfect earnestness, and Buffy knew that the demon and the soul had that much in common. They would both forgive her nearly anything. “Thanks.” She smiled at him. “So what do you want to do today?”

He stared at her. “What?”

“It’s up to you,” Buffy said. “We should probably stay inside because of the sun factor, but other than that, it’s your choice.”

“You don’t have to go to work?” he asked.

Buffy shook her head. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

William stared at her, wondering if she knew what she was offering. “Don’t you want to spend the day with your friends?” he asked, knowing that he sounded a bit desperate. He didn’t want her to go off with her friends, but surely she didn’t want to spend time with him. Surely—

“I am spending the day with a friend,” she replied, laying a hand on his arm.

Watching the way William’s eyes lit up, Buffy knew she had done exactly the right thing.


	10. Confluents

**“As rivers seek the sea,/Much more deep than they,/So my soul seeks thee/Far away;/As running rivers moan,/On their course alone,/So I moan/Left alone./As the delicate rose/To the sun’s sweet strength/Doth herself unclose,/Breadth and length;/So spreads my heart to thee/Unveiled utterly,/I to thee/Utterly…Its goal the river knows,/Dewdrops find a way,/Sunlight cheers the rose/In her day:/Shall I, lone sorrow past,/Find thee at the last?/Sorrow past,/Thee at last?” ~Christina Rossetti, “Confluents”**

The odd thing was that Buffy had never previously planned to spend time with Spike. They had patrolled together, and they had sat on the back porch—sometimes talking idly, sometimes in silence. They had watched a movie together once, but that was mostly either by accident or driven by catastrophe.

Of course, they’d had other things on their minds last year, and had engaged in other activities that she was reticent to mention to William.

So trying to figure out what they were going to do all day was a lot more difficult than it should have been.

They drank their coffee, and Buffy forced William to drink his blood. Afterwards there was an uncomfortable silence while they looked at each other, trying to decide what they were going to do.

“We could watch a movie,” Buffy suggested. “I’ve still got my mom’s old videos. She was a big fan of the black and white movies.”

William tilted his head in a gesture Buffy well remembered. “What is the difference?”

“Well, the black and white movies are probably more up your alley than the newer ones,” Buffy said with a smile. “If you don’t want to be shocked.”

“I think I’m beyond shock at this point,” William said quietly. “I don’t—I should be—acting differently.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but Buffy wondered if it didn’t have to do with the fact that Spike wasn’t really gone. The soul was definitely in the driver’s seat, but maybe that part of him that was Spike wasn’t so far away. “You’re doing the best you can.”

“Perhaps,” he said doubtfully. “Would you be honest with me, Buffy?”

Buffy flinched. She had no idea what he was going to ask, but there were certain questions that she had no desire to answer truthfully. “I can try.”

“Will you tell me what we fought over?”

Buffy swallowed. “You mean, tell you why you left?”

“Yes.”

She took a deep breath. “We were—we were together for a while,” Buffy admitted quietly. “You had changed. _Spike_ had changed. I was—I was gone for the summer, and Spike stayed with Dawn the whole time, and helped keep the Hellmouth safe.”

William wanted to ask where she had gone and what a Hellmouth was, but he was afraid to stop her lest she leave the story incomplete. “When I—came back, Spike was just there. He was the only one I could talk to, and things got—complicated.”

“He loved you,” William supplied.

Buffy laughed a little at that, bitterly. “He did. I couldn’t feel anything, William. Not after what had happened to me. After a while, I broke things off with him. We were okay for a while, and maybe…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath. “We—we fought because Spike had—been with a friend of mine, and I found out. He came to apologize, and I wouldn’t admit to having any feelings for him, so we fought.”

William caught an emotion behind her words that frightened him. “You were hurt. He attacked you.” He left unspoken the fact that Spike was him.

“I don’t think he even knew what he was doing,” Buffy said quickly, wanting to shield William from as much pain as possible. “Really, William. It wasn’t something that was supposed to happen, and it surprised both of us, I think.”

“Then what?” he whispered.

She smiled. “Spike left on a quest to get his soul, and when he came back he was crazy. There was something haunting him, so we did the spell—and here you are.”

“But I still don’t understand why you haven’t killed me—or Spike,” William objected. “Surely, after what he—I—did—”

“It’s not that easy,” Buffy replied softly.

“Why?”

“Because I loved him.”

It wasn’t quite how she had wanted to tell him, and she would have preferred to say the words to Spike, but Buffy thought it might be time. It might take some of the sting out of the story she’d just shared. “Even after what happened?” William asked, sounding incredulous, as well he might.

“Even after that,” Buffy replied. She touched his cheek gently. “And you’re a part of him, you know.”

The meaning behind her words took a moment to sink in, but when it did, William’s eyes widened comically. “You’re saying—”

“What you think I’m saying.” The words were still too hard to say, but they were true nonetheless. Buffy loved Spike. She loved William. It was as simple as that.

William glanced away. “I don’t remember,” he said mournfully.

“That actually might be a good thing. It gives us a chance to start over,” Buffy replied.

“I’m not Spike,” William warned. “I’m no warrior, Buffy. I’m just—” He faltered.

She took his hand in hers. “Would you tell me the last thing you do remember?”

“There was a party.” He stopped.

Buffy knew that she had to tread very lightly. “What happened at the party, William?”

“Cecily was there. They—they read my—my poetry aloud, and she—she asked if—if it was about her.”

Somehow Buffy already knew the ending to the story. It was obvious from the pain in his eyes, the way he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes, and the stuttering. “She turned you down, huh?”

“She said I was beneath her.”

The words lay stark between them, and Buffy hid a wince, remembering when she’d said the exact same thing to Spike. No wonder he’d been ready to kill her. The remarkable thing was that he’d still helped out against Glory. “She was a bitch, William.”

He blinked rapidly, the threatening tears giving way to astonishment. “Wha-what?”

“She was a bitch,” Buffy repeated clearly. “Seriously, any guy that would take the time to write a girl poetry is definitely worth keeping.”

“It was very bad poetry,” William admitted in an attempt to be fair.

Buffy smirked. “I’ll bet you agonized over every word.”

He would have blushed if it was still possible. “Perhaps.”

Her lips met his in the first kiss William had ever experienced. It was unbelievable—more amazing than he’d ever dared to dream. It almost made him want to write poetry again.

Almost.

“If you ever write poetry for me, I promise that I would love it,” Buffy said with a smile.

Something in her chest uncoiled, relaxed. For so long, the thing between her and Spike had left her ready to explode. This thing between them now had an innocence she hadn’t experienced since before Angel.

It left her feeling as carefree as a child.

“Come on,” Buffy said, swiftly changing the subject. “Let’s go through some of those old boxes in the basement. I think that’s where the old videos are.”

~~~~~

They found the boxes with the picture albums first, and William was so obviously entranced with the photographs that Buffy pulled them out and started flipping through the pages with him. He wanted to know everything about each photo, and Buffy found herself laughing with him over some of the earlier snapshots.

“You have so many,” he marveled after she had pulled out the second album.

Buffy laughed. “This is nothing,” she assured him. “There’s at least one more box full of albums, and I know we have slides around here somewhere. I won’t subject you to them, though.”

William shook his head. “Slides?”

She frowned, trying to figure out how to explain. “They’re a different kind of picture,” Buffy finally said. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Alright,” he said, bending his head to peer at the picture of her and Dawn together. The first album they’d gone through had contained pictures of her as a baby. It wasn’t until they’d started in on the second that any pictures of Dawn had shown up. In a certain sense, Buffy had to admire the monks. They had been very thorough, even up to concocting pictures of Dawn from infancy onwards.

“Didn’t you have any pictures of yourself?” Buffy asked, curious.

William glanced up at her, blue eyes open and vulnerable. In moments like that, Buffy could actually see his soul—see right down to the core of him. Spike had been able to hide from her to a certain extent. He’d rarely been so open, anyway.

And yet, when she had seen Spike—really seen him—it had hurt, mostly because it showed her the truth of her actions towards him.

After a moment’s thought, he nodded. “Yes. Mother and I sat for our photographs twice, but that was all. We never had so many pictures.”

Buffy grinned at him. “Wait one minute,” she ordered, jumping up to fish through a different box. “I knew it was in here somewhere.” Pulling out a Polaroid camera, Buffy checked to see if there was any extra film in the box. Her mom had occasionally preferred the instant pictures, and so she usually kept film on hand just in case. Sure enough, there was more film, and Buffy quickly loaded it. “Smile.”

William didn’t smile. Instead, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, and she pressed the button. When the blank picture came out, she handed it to him. “What—”

“Just wait a minute,” she advised.

William frowned but didn’t say anything else, waiting obediently. His eyes went wide in delight as the picture began to emerge. “It’s magic!” he exclaimed.

“Nope,” Buffy replied. “Just technology. They’re not usually great pictures, but polaroids are fun, and there’s no waiting. Dawn keeps saying that we should get a digital camera, but—” She stopped, seeing the bewildered expression on his face. “Never mind. Anyway, that’s what you look like.”

William looked back down. The picture had developed fully, and he squinted at it. The first thing he noticed was his hair; the second was the scar through his eyebrow. He touched his hair self-consciously. “Does it really look like that?”

“Yeah, it does,” Buffy replied. “It looks good though.”

He stared at the picture for a few minutes longer and then handed it back to Buffy. “Thank you.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his tone. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” William said quickly. “I’m quite well.”

Buffy reached over, tilting his chin until he met her eyes. “You’re not okay.”

“I don’t recognize myself.”

Her thumb stroked his cheek. “But I recognize you.”

William swallowed hard. She _saw_ him.

It made his chest ache.

~~~~~

When Dawn came home, she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. She was fairly certain that Buffy wouldn’t kill William, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to find that they’d retreated to opposite corners of the house.

Instead, Buffy was sitting on the couch right next to him, her head resting on his shoulder, obviously asleep. William was focused on the television, again watching some old black and white movie, and Dawn recognized Jimmy Stewart. After a few moments, she realized it was _The Philadelphia Story_, which had been one of her mom’s favorites. Apparently, Buffy had dug out the old movies for him.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

William glanced up at her with a welcoming smile. “Hello, Dawn. How was your day?”

“Good.” Dawn sat down in the rocking chair. “How was yours?”

“It was…” William frowned, trying to find the right adjective. “Splendid.”

The girl grinned widely at him. “That’s great.” She watched as William carefully extricated himself from under Buffy, trying not to wake her. “What did you guys do all day?”

He hesitated. “We talked.”

Dawn was almost disappointed. “That’s it?”

“We looked at photographs too,” he offered.

Her eyes got huge. “You looked at pictures? Oh, God. She didn’t show you any of the old ones of me, did she?”

“Of course,” William replied, and Dawn missed the mischievous gleam in his eye. “There were quite a few pictures of you. I think my favorite was the picture of you being bathed.”

Dawn flushed a deep red, knowing exactly which photograph he was talking about. She also knew of the existence of a few more that she desperately hoped never saw the light of day. William took pity on her. “They were lovely photographs, Dawn, but I do not plan on sharing them with anyone else. I hope you know that you can trust me with such things.”

“Of course I trust you,” Dawn said without thinking. “You’re family.” She saw the look on his face and frowned. “What?”

“Your sister informed me why I—Spike—left.”

“Oh.” Dawn honestly hadn’t believed that Buffy would tell William anything. Just the fact that the Slayer was actually talking instead of taking action told her Buffy was serious about this whole thing. Getting Buffy to talk about issues involving anything emotional was akin to pinning down water. “Are you okay?”

“I suppose.” William got a far-off look in his eyes. “It is—it is difficult to believe, especially since I do not remember any of it. I cannot imagine ever doing—that.”

“That’s why you got your soul, though,” Dawn said. “Or why Spike got his soul anyway.”

“Are we not the same man?” William asked with an arched brow. “We certainly inhabit the same body. I look at Buffy, and I—” He stopped there. She had been kind to him, had said that she loved him, but he didn’t trust it. William was afraid that it was a fluke, a dream, that she was truly in love with Spike.

If he never was Spike again, would that change her feelings for him?

“Yes and no.” Dawn searched for the words, trying to explain it. “You’re a lot alike,” she finally said. “More alike than different, I guess.”

“Then I am capable of perpetrating horrors.” His tone was flat, but his eyes reflected anguish.

Dawn shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, maybe, but William, all of us do really bad things. Last year—” Last year had been horrible for all of them. “Last year was really bad. I don’t think you can judge yourself based on a bad year.”

“What about all the years before that when I was a vampire?” he asked.

Dawn hesitated, and then spoke decidedly. “That’s when you were different. That was before you knew us.”

The phone rang just then, and Dawn hurried to answer it. “Hey, Willow, what’s up?...She’s sleeping, but—”

Buffy came into the kitchen. “Who is it, Dawn?”

“It’s Willow. She sounds worried.”

Buffy took the phone from her sister, frowning. “Hey, Willow, what’s—A spider?...A spider demon? Where?” She motioned frantically to Dawn, but William moved first, handing her a pen and pad of paper. The Slayer threw him a grateful smile and went back to her conversation. “Okay, go…No, don’t worry about it. I’ll just give Xander a call…Absolutely…It ripped out the heart?!...Sure, later…Bye.”

Buffy hung up the phone, turning to see William and Dawn wearing identical expressions of intense curiosity. “What was that about?” Dawn asked.

“Some spider demon’s loose on campus,” she replied. “Willow needs me to stop it while she checks on some other stuff, mostly who was behind said demon.” Buffy sighed. “Darn. I was hoping to hit the mall today.”

“Mall?” Dawn asked, perking up.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “For William. He needs more clothes.”

“Really, Buffy, I’m sure—”

“And don’t say you’re fine,” Buffy interrupted. “You don’t have much, and what you have doesn’t really suit you now.”

William couldn’t argue with that. “If you’re certain.”

“Of course I’m certain,” Buffy said, her resolve face firmly in place. “I’ve done this before. I kill the demon, and then we go to the mall. It should be a piece of cake, barring world-endage.”

Things were never that easy.


	11. Mistakes

**“No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:/Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud./Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,/And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud./All men make faults, and even I in this,/Authorizing they trespass with compare,/ Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss…” William Shakespeare, Sonnet 35**

“So how’s William doing?” Xander asked idly.

The spider demon hadn’t been that much trouble to dispatch. Buffy had gotten scratched up, but the wounds weren’t serious, and no one had been hurt. One well-placed ax had the demon plummeting from the trees, and that had been that.

Buffy blinked. “Huh?”

“William,” Xander repeated patiently. “How’s he doing?”

She frowned. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I’d make small talk, and he is staying with you. After what Spike did—”

“Spike didn’t do anything, Xander,” Buffy said sharply. “I think we’ve gone over this.”

Xander scowled. “I saw—”

“You didn’t see anything.” Buffy cut him off again. “We fought, things happened, but I kicked him across the room before he _did_ anything.”

Her friend shook his head stubbornly. “Buffy, Spike is bad news.”

“Spike is my responsibility now,” she said firmly. “He got his soul for me, and now the First is tormenting him.”

“But that’s what the spell was for, right?” Xander asked. “I mean, you got Willow to do that spell to protect him.”

She sighed. “It’s working the way it was supposed to, but it doesn’t mean that the First can’t mess with his head. You should have heard him screaming last night, Xander. I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t call the cops.”

Xander winced. “Poor guy.”

“You almost sound sorry for him.”

“I am, sorta,” Xander replied. “I don’t know, Buffy. I hated Spike. Still do, actually. The whole getting his soul thing, though, and now—he’s not really Spike anymore. It’s hard to know what to feel.”

“Tell me about it,” Buffy muttered. “Look, Xander, I know you’ll probably be seeing more of him. Spike can hold his own, but William doesn’t really know you.”

Xander sighed. “You’re telling me to go easy on him.”

“Please?”

“Are you in love with him, Buffy?”

The Slayer knew where this was going, and she didn’t want to start down that road. “Are you still in love with Anya?”

Xander’s expression told her that he knew exactly what point she was trying to make. “Always. So are you?”

Buffy hesitated and then said, “Yeah. For a while now.”

They walked the rest of the way to Revello Drive in silence.

~~~~~

Willow came through the front door with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t just Anya, either, although that played a role in it. The magic had nearly taken over again. She’d gone all dark on that girl, even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. Who wouldn’t have been wigging in her situation?

She wasn’t nearly as in control as she’d thought.

“Willow? Are you alright?”

William’s brow was furrowed in concern, although his eyes widened when he realized that Willow was on the verge of tears. “Come sit down,” he said, taking her arm in a solicitous manner and leading her into the kitchen. In a few moments, he had the kettle going for tea, and he was bustling around getting mugs and the cookies he and Dawn had made, giving Willow enough time to get herself under control.

“Thanks,” she said softly as she sipped the mug of tea William placed in front of her.

He smiled kindly. “Would you care to tell me what troubles you?”

Maybe it was how he said it, maybe it was just the expression on William’s face, but Willow gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“We have some time before Buffy will be back.”

William actually sounded firm, as though he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and Willow realized that he was good at this comforting thing. Was this pure William? Because Willow didn’t remember Spike being this sympathetic.

Although, Buffy had mentioned spending a lot of time with him right after she was resurrected.

“I had this problem last year,” Willow said slowly. “You know I did that spell?”

“For me?” William nodded. “Yes, you said you were a witch.”

Willow nodded. “I had a problem with magic.” She told him everything—about Amy, about losing Tara, about getting Tara back only to lose her again, even about trying to destroy the world. She was fairly certain that he understood only about half of what she was saying, but he didn’t interrupt. “So today I lost it again,” she finished. “I snapped at that girl, and—”

“You didn’t harm her, did you?” William asked, stopping her for the first time.

Willow shook her head emphatically. “No, but—”

“And you protected her from the demon.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And you regained control of yourself.”

Willow stared at him. “You’re making me feel better about this,” she accused.

“Would you rather wallow in guilt?”

This was said in a completely bland tone of voice as though he was asking whether she preferred milk and sugar in her tea, and Willow suddenly realized exactly what he had done for her. “No, probably not, since Buffy is going to need me.”

“This Anya person is one of her friends, I take it,” William commented. “But she’s a demon?”

“That’s a really long story too,” Willow said, just as the front door opened again. “And we don’t have time for that one.” She reached out quickly, grabbing William’s hand before they were interrupted and had to deal with this new emergency. “Thanks for listening. It helped a lot.”

“I’m glad I could be of service,” William said softly. “Do you—” He threw a furtive look at the doorway as Buffy called out for Willow. “Do you think we might be friends?”

“Absolutely,” Willow said as Buffy and Xander came spilling into the kitchen. “We already are.”

~~~~~

“I don’t believe it,” Xander muttered as Willow finished her tale. The Anya he knew wouldn’t have killed a dozen fraternity boys, no matter what they had done.

What he didn’t realize was that his Anya didn’t really exist anymore, if she ever had.

Willow winced. “I couldn’t really believe it either, Xander, but it’s the truth.”

“Why didn’t you tell us before now?” he demanded. “Before we went after it?”

“She couldn’t,” Buffy quietly asserted.

Xander’s head spun to look at her. “Why not?”

“Because she knows what I have to do. I have to kill Anya.”

The words fell into the silence of the room. Dawn was quiet, as she had been for the entire speech, her arms wrapped around herself. She’d come down right after Xander and Buffy had returned, and William could tell by the expression on her face that she knew exactly what was coming. He didn’t want to disturb the occupants of the room; this seemed a private matter that he had no part in. Something in Dawn’s expression tugged at him, though, and he moved to go to her.

It might have been a mistake.

“You can’t!” Xander protested. “Buffy, this is Anya!”

“And Anya is a demon, Xander. She killed a dozen kids.”

“So you’re going to kill her when you have a murderer and a rapist living in your house?”

William froze, knowing exactly whom Xander was referring to. Dawn was suddenly at his side. “Leave William out of this, Xander.”

“This isn’t about William, this is about Spike,” the man insisted. He turned to look at Buffy. “What is it, Buffy? Demons are bad as long as _you_ aren’t sleeping with them? You know how I feel about her!”

“She made her choice, Xander!” Buffy shot back. “Anya _chose_ to become a demon again, knowing what it meant. She _chose_ to kill those boys. Don’t pretend like this is easy for me!”

Xander stood, anger radiating from his frame. “I know what this is, Buffy. You’re the Chosen One, so you get to choose who lives and who dies. You’re the law, and we don’t count.”

“That’s right, Xander,” Buffy replied, a quiet rage in her voice. “I am the Slayer, which means when the tough decisions have to be made, I’m the one who makes them. Do you think I like that part of the job description? Do you think I like the thought of killing Anya? If there was any other way, I would take it, but there isn’t.”

“There has to be,” he shot back.

She sighed. “Then please find it.”

He stormed out, but the damage had already been done. William was still standing, frozen by the epithets Xander had used. Not that he hadn’t known on some level that it was true, but to have it spoken so bluntly, so harshly, put it in another light entirely.

Buffy looked over at him for the first time, and her expression changed from resolve to concern. “William, I—” She sighed. “I don’t have time for this now. I have to go find Anya, and—do something.” Buffy went to the weapons chest and pulled out a sword. “Stay here, and don’t—don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll stay with him, Buffy,” Dawn said.

“Thanks,” Buffy replied, looking over at Willow, who shook her head. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I can’t.”

Buffy merely nodded her understanding and headed out the door.

Her departure seemed to unlock something inside William. “I-I have to go.”

“William, I think you should stay here,” Dawn insisted.

He shook his head. “Just to the basement. I have to—I need some time—to think.”

Willow had come over to stand next to him. “Are you sure? If you want to talk…”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted with a sickly smile. “Thank you.”

He fled, leaving Dawn and Willow to stare after him. “This isn’t good,” Dawn muttered.

Willow sighed. “No, it’s not, but I think I have something that will help Buffy anyway.”

“She needs all the help she can get,” Dawn replied. “If she has to kill Anya, she’s never going to forgive herself.”

~~~~~

William paced the basement restlessly, trying outrun the thoughts flying through his head. The images from the nightmare he’d had the night before kept intruding, and he knew they were all real. That had been him. He had done those horrible things, and he had loved every minute of it.

He had hurt the girl.

“Oh, please, William, did you really think it would work?”

He whirled to see Buffy standing before him, hands on her hips, an amused smirk on her face. “I-I don’t understand.”

“I-I-I,” she mocked. “Cat got your tongue, William? You’re pathetic.”

“You’re not real,” he said desperately. Buffy hadn’t been this cruel to him. Even when he’d burned himself, she had been angry and rough, but not cruel.

Buffy smiled. “You wish. Come on, did you really think you have what it takes to get me to love you? You’re a nobody, a wimp. I need someone strong. Like Spike.”

William’s unneeded breath hissed out of him in a gasp. “No, you said—”

“And you believed me?” Buffy asked. “The problem with you, William, is that you’ll believe anything a pretty girl tells you, because of course she wouldn’t lie. The truth is, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, because you’re so sensitive. There’s no telling what you would do, and then I’d have to live with the guilt. The truth is, Spike wasn’t the one for me either. Oh, he tried, but he still had too much of _you_ in him.”

She advanced on him step by step with every word she spoke, William retreating until his back was against the wall. “You’re a spineless waste of space. I should have killed Spike for what he did to me, and I should kill you because you’re not worth keeping around. Maybe one of these days I’ll finally put you out of your misery.”

William didn’t even see her leave. He was trying too hard not to cry.

~~~~~

Everything had happened so quickly, Xander hadn’t even had time to take it all in. One minute he was being told that Anya had killed a dozen young men, the next he was going after her in a vain attempt to prevent Buffy from killing her.

Then Buffy was there and she and Anya were fighting—and Xander had never realized how scary Anya could be as a demon—and D’Hoffryn was there, and the demon that had ruined Buffy’s birthday party last year—

Then it was all over, and Anya was human again.

Xander had to admit that he had believed that everything would be better if he could just convince Anya to stop being a vengeance demon. If she was human again, he might be able to convince her that he really did love her, and that leaving her at the altar had been a big mistake.

If she was human again, they might be able to go back to the way things had been.

“Anya, wait!” he called as she left. Xander knew that she was grieving. Halfrek had been her friend, and Xander felt badly that she had died, even though he was overwhelmingly grateful that it hadn’t been Anya.

When he’d heard her desire to reverse the vengeance spell, when she’d wholeheartedly agreed to D’Hoffryn’s demands for an exchange of lives, thinking it would be hers—it had nearly ripped his heart out.

“What do you want, Xander?” she asked sounding infinitely tired.

Xander swallowed. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“No, I really should,” Anya replied quietly. “I need to be alone, Xander. I don’t even know who I am.”

He hesitated and nodded. “Look, if you need me—”

“I know where to find you,” she replied. “Thanks.”

She started walking again, leaving Xander to stare after her helplessly. He wanted to go after her, to tell her that he still loved her, that she was still Anya.

And sometimes, he knew, you had to let a person go and find their own way.

~~~~~

Buffy entered the house, weighed down with emotion. It had been a long day. From the innocent delights of spending the day with William to nearly having to kill one of her friends—talk about a rollercoaster.

The Slayer was getting really tired of keeping her friends from going evil. Next time one of them went off the deep end, she was opting out.

“William?” she called, wondering where he was. She had seen his face and knew that Xander’s words had cut him to the quick. “William?”

“I think he’s still in the basement,” Dawn called from her seat on the couch. “He said he wanted some time alone, and he hasn’t come back upstairs yet.”

Buffy nodded. “Where’s Willow?”

“Upstairs.” Dawn made a wry face. “I think she was pretty shaken up by the whole thing too. Willow said she was going to try something to help you. Did it work?”

“In a way,” Buffy replied. “D’Hoffryn showed up and turned Anya human again, but not before he killed one of her demon-friends. You know, the one behind the never-ending party?”

Dawn wrinkled her nose. “Hallie? He killed her?”

“As the price for undoing the spell,” Buffy said. “To be fair, Anya thought he was going to kill her.”

Dawn sighed. “Poor Anya. Not that I’m all that sorry about Hallie, but that sucks.”

“Pretty much,” Buffy agreed. “I’m going to talk to William. Xander shook him up pretty good.”

“What Xander said,” Dawn began. “I mean, I know this is William, but—”

Buffy winced. “I know we need to talk about this, Dawn, but I don’t really have time right now. Can I meet you for lunch tomorrow?”

Dawn nodded. “But you’ll explain then?”

“I promise,” Buffy replied, heading off for the basement stairs. She didn’t see him at first, and she turned on the basement light to give a little more illumination. “William?”

“Go away.”

“I’m not going to go away,” Buffy replied. “Look, what Xander said—”

“Was true, you already told me.” She wasn’t sure what to make of his tone, which seemed a cross between misery and anger. “Go away.”

“No, William. We need to—”

“Talk?” he demanded. “How can you stand there and—and look at me like that after—” He broke off. William had stood to meet her, and now he turned his back on her.

Buffy, for her part, was confused. She had no idea what had happened to cause him to be this upset with her. After all, she wasn’t the one who had made those comments, and he had seemed to enjoy her company earlier in the day.

There was a part of her that wanted to say “fine,” and turn and walk back up the stairs, leaving him to his moping, or whatever this was. There was another part of her that wanted to fix the problem. “After what, William?”

“After what you said!” he cried out, whirling to face her again.

Buffy frowned, confused. “After I said what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You said—you said I was—” He couldn’t even repeat it.

Buffy stared at him, still trying to figure out what he was saying. “William, when was this?”

His eyes expressed his feeling of betrayal. “Earlier, after you left. You came back, and—”

“I didn’t come back, William,” Buffy said. “I just got back not five minutes ago.” Understanding dawned. “Did this other Buffy touch you?”

He shook his head, obviously now more confused than angry. “No, but—”

“Remember when I said something was haunting you?” she asked. “That’s what this was. It wasn’t me.” Buffy moved forward to take his hand. “I told you that I loved you. I meant it.”

William stared at their joined hands. “But—you—she told me—”

“I don’t know what she told you, but it was a lie,” Buffy said forcefully. “If something like that happens again, I want you to try touching whoever it is, okay? The First is incorporeal, so if you can’t touch it, it’s not real.”

William frowned. “I cannot go around touching everyone,” he objected. “It’s not polite.”

Buffy smiled. “I think I’m probably the only one you really have to worry about,” she replied. “The First can only take on the appearance of dead people.”

“You’re not dead,” William said, still looking at their linked hands.

“No, but I was for a while. Remember when I told you I was gone for a summer, and Spike—you looked after Dawn?” When he nodded, she continued. “Well, I was dead. Willow brought me back.”

“So if something like this happens again, I’m to—” he broke off.

“Whatever you like,” Buffy said softly. “Although this is nice. We could just hold hands any time we’re together. That should do it.”

A shy smile crept over his face. “Then you really did mean it?” he asked. “Earlier today, when you—”

She kissed him tenderly. “I meant every word. The First is going to keep trying to get to you, William,” she warned. “You have to be strong.”

“I told you I’m not a strong man, Buffy,” he replied.

“You’re stronger than you realize.”

They held each other for a long time after that.


	12. The Definition of Love

**“And now you’re mine. Rest with your dream in my dream./Love and pain and work should all sleep, now./The night turns on its invisible wheels,/and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber./No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,/we will go together, over the waters of time./No one else will travel through the shadows with me,/only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon…” Pablo Neruda, Sonnet LXXXI**

There was no way Buffy was going to allow William to sleep in the basement after that. It was surprisingly easy to convince him to come upstairs with her, less easy to convince him to share her bed.

“Wouldn’t the floor be better?” he asked nervously.

Buffy put on her best resolve face. “What if you start having a nightmare and I have to wake you up? Do you want me to have to keep getting in and out of bed?”

The guilt trip had worked perfectly, and while William had lain stiffly for a while, it wasn’t too long before he’d relaxed into sleep.

It was a good thing she’d brought him upstairs, however. Buffy had been woken no less than three times during the night by his thrashing around and whimpering, although she’d managed to wake him before the screaming started.

Sleep had remained elusive for Buffy, though, and she’d dragged herself out of bed and off to the early shift at work the next morning with no energy at all. She didn’t often have to work mornings, which was a good thing, but there were times when it couldn’t be avoided.

Still, the peaceful expression on William’s face as he had slept on had been reward enough. The poor guy really had been through a rough couple of days. Once her shift was over, Buffy headed over to the high school with lunch for Dawn, fully intending on talking the whole thing out.

“Alright, so let’s hear it,” Dawn challenged once she’d started in on the sandwich Buffy brought.

“Hear what?” her sister responded innocently.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Come on, Buffy. One day Spike is crazy in the school basement, and the next you bring him home with you. And now suddenly he’s William. What am I supposed to think?”

“What do you think?” Buffy asked. “It seemed like you were getting along fine with William.”

“I am, and that’s not the point—and you know it.” Dawn fixed her with a glare. “What changed?”

“It’s hard to say,” Buffy admitted softly. “He got his soul for me, Dawnie.”

“So what?” Dawn shot back. “What good is a soul supposed to be? Plenty of people do really bad things with a soul.”

Buffy frowned, recognizing the truth of that argument. “Spike thought it would make him a better man,” she finally said. “Whether or not it did is a different story, I guess.”

“But what Xander said—” Dawn began.

“Xander doesn’t know the whole story,” Buffy interrupted. “Yes, Spike hurt me, but—it’s hard to explain. I used him last year, Dawn, and we hurt each other.” It was the first time she’d admitted it out loud to anyone other than Spike, who had already known. “That evening he came over to apologize, and I wasn’t listening. He wanted to know why I kept Xander from killing him after—after Anya, and I wouldn’t tell him. Spike just wanted me to admit I felt something.”

“So he tried to rape you,” Dawn said flatly.

Buffy sighed. “Something like that. I don’t think that’s what he wanted, Dawnie. And like I said, we both hurt each other. What Spike did—or tried to do—wasn’t really even the worst.”

Dawn was fairly sure she didn’t want to know what the worst thing was. “Now you’ve forgiven him?”

“Why not?” Buffy asked. “It’s not like any of us have a right to point our fingers at Spike. We’ve all done really stupid things, sometimes really bad things, and have hurt the people we cared about. If I decided not to forgive Spike, what right would I have to ask him to forgive me for all the horrible things I did to him?”

“You love him,” Dawn said wonderingly. Once upon a time, it had been her dearest wish. Now she wasn’t quite sure what to think. “Buffy, what if things go bad again?”

“They won’t,” her sister replied. “We’re both in a different place now. Spike much more literally than me.”

Dawn laughed. “I really like William,” she confessed. “It’s hard to stay mad at him, and then it’s really easy to see Spike. You know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Buffy replied. “I’ve got to get home. I think I’m going to take a nap, because I’m exhausted.”

“You’re getting old,” Dawn teased.

Buffy gave her sister a dirty look. “Looking after you is aging me prematurely.”

“Whatever!” Dawn called after Buffy’s retreating back, laughing a little. It was good to know that her sister wasn’t going off the deep end. With Buffy’s assurances, Dawn understood a little better that this wasn’t some sort of Stockholm syndrome, or another case of Buffy living in the land of denial.

This was real. It made Dawn believe that maybe things would work out between them after all.

She finished up her sandwich, picking up her trash to throw it away, and she saw him. He was out on the field, squirting water into his mouth and all over his face. He was the quarterback.

And he was a god.

~~~~~

William was still napping when Buffy got home, and she crawled into the bed next to him, feeling him stir slightly. “Buffy?”

“I’m just going to take a nap,” she murmured. “You don’t have to stay in bed if you don’t want.”

William simply moved closer to her. “Don’t want to get up,” he mumbled. “’s nicer here with you, Slayer.”

Buffy stiffened. He sounded like Spike. “William?”

“Yes?” he asked, his voice already heading back towards sleep.

Buffy blinked, realizing that he didn’t know how he sounded, but that he was half-conscious. Was Spike coming back? Would he gradually replace William?

Or would it be a replacement? Maybe it would be more of a melding. She worried over the idea until sleep took her as well.

When she woke several hours later, it was to the growling of her stomach. She rolled over and found her nose an inch away from a muscular thigh. Buffy’s eyes shot up to see William sitting up, reading a book. “Good afternoon,” he said easily.

“How long have you been awake?” she asked, sitting up slowly.

William shrugged. “For a while,” he admitted. “Dawn lent me a few books, and it is comfortable in here.” He brushed her hair out of her face. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” she quickly assured him. “I just thought you might bolt.”

“Perhaps I should have,” he agreed. “I couldn’t bring myself to leave you, however.”

Buffy suddenly made a face, realizing that she hadn’t even gotten cleaned up before hitting the sheets. “I probably look horrible. I’m going to go shower, and then what would you say to hitting the mall?”

“If you like,” William replied, not sounding very enthusiastic.

Buffy grinned at him. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Besides, if we decide to hit the Bronze anytime soon, you’ll need _something_ to wear.”

She had dashed out the door before William could inquire what exactly “the Bronze” might be, but he didn’t think it would do him any good if he knew. Buffy was nothing if not persistent, and he had the feeling that she would insist upon his going with her. She seemed to have this desire to include him in her life, no matter how difficult a fit it seemed to be.

~~~~~

Gone were the days when Buffy could spend a fortune on clothes and shoes, but she had learned a few tricks. There were stores where you could get decent looking clothes for a fraction of the price of the name-brand shops. William was literally putty in her hands. Every time he looked doubtful about one of her choices, all she had to do was ask, “Don’t you trust me?”

When they finally got back home, they had several bags, and William had enough clothing to last him a few days at the very least. “This is really terribly generous of you,” he said. “You know you didn’t have to purchase so many things for me.”

“Yes, I did,” Buffy replied quickly. “The stuff you had doesn’t suit you. Besides, I think a lot of your clothing got blown up with the crypt. Clem managed to salvage some things, but not a ton.”

“Wait,” William stopped her. “Blown up?” His voice squeaked a little on the last word.

Buffy tried to hide a grin. “Yeah, we had to. There was an infestation, and that was the only way to get rid of it. You were in Africa at the time, so it wasn’t like you could do anything about it.”

William noted that she hadn’t been nearly as careful to distinguish between him and his alter ego lately. “I shall have to avoid going to Africa in the future then, if that’s what happens while I am away.”

“Please do,” Buffy said, her words teasing, but her tone serious.

William tilted his head. “I am not certain I could leave you,” he confessed softly. “Buffy, should Spike return—”

“I told you, you’re the same man,” Buffy replied. “I promise that you aren’t going anywhere.”

He decided to believe her, having no other choice. “Very well.”

“Hey guys!” Dawn said, her voice perky.

Buffy gave William a smile and then followed her sister into the kitchen. “How was the rest of school today?”

“It was great!” Dawn replied.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Dawn was _never_ this cheerful. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” There was a giggle. “Well, it’s just that I met the most perfect guy ever!”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up, and she glanced over at William who was glowering like a thundercloud. She stifled a smile. Apparently, the protective streak was something else he and Spike had in common. “What’s his name?”

“R.J.,” Dawn said blithely. “He’s only the hottest, smartest, fastest, sweetest guy on the face of the planet.”

William cleared his throat. “What are his intentions?”

“Intentions?” Dawn asked blankly. “I don’t know. Does it matter? He’s perfect.”

She almost danced out of the room, leaving William frowning after her. “Buffy, I really do not think—”

“Let’s go, Mr. Overprotective,” Buffy teased. “Trust me. She’ll be fine.”

Talk about famous last words.

~~~~~

When Buffy got home the next day, it was to find Willow and Xander standing in the living room, William in a corner. The vampire looked like he wanted out badly, but for some reason was holding his ground. “What’s going on?” she asked flatly. “Xander, did you—”

“I didn’t do anything!” he protested. “We got done at the site early, and I was coming to hang out with Willow.”

Buffy’s eyes went to her friend. “Willow?”

The witch sighed. “Really, Buffy, everything is okay. Dawn’s just—a little upset.”

“She’s hysterical,” William said. “She will not speak to us, but it has something to do with that young man.”

Buffy could hear the barely restrained anger in his voice. “Okay, where is she?”

“She locked herself in her room,” Willow explained.

Buffy sighed. “I’ll go see what I can do.” She fixed Xander with a glare. “I think you have something to say to William if you haven’t already.”

She marched up the stairs, leaving a silent room behind her. Willow backed off, silently indicating that she wasn’t going to get in the middle. William and Xander looked at each other with William breaking off eye contact first. “You were speaking the truth,” he said. “There is nothing to apologize for.”

Absurdly, William’s quiet admission simply heightened the guilt factor. “I wasn’t thinking,” he acknowledged. “I do that a lot.”

“You were upset.” Now William did manage to meet his eyes again. “You love her.”

Somehow Xander thought that William understood the kind of pain a man will go through for love. He had never believed that Spike loved Buffy, not even after he’d stayed all that summer and helped them fight evil. When he’d come back with his soul, it cast the shadow of a doubt onto his thinking.

In William’s eyes, Xander saw the soul of a poet, and he finally understood. It was the same expression he’d seen on Spike’s face on occasion—the same love, the same longing.

Spike really had loved Buffy. Who knew?

“Yeah, I do,” Xander said quietly. The tension in the room had dissipated.

“Get out!”

The shriek came from upstairs, and William went to follow it, but Xander stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Trust me, this isn’t something you want to get in the middle of,” he said. “Buffy can handle it.”

There were more sounds from upstairs, and then Buffy came storming down. “Dawn shredded my cheerleader uniform!” she exploded. “Shredded it!”

Willow and Xander exchanged looks. “I’m sure Dawn had a reason, Buffy,” Willow said soothingly.

“The reason’s name is R.J.,” Buffy seethed. “What has gotten into her? Dawn has never been this crazy over a guy before! She just noticed him yesterday, and suddenly he’s worthy of shredding my cheerleading uniform?”

“To be fair, Buf, Dawn did make it sound like she made a pretty big fool out of herself.” Xander’s tone was placating, but he was soon backing off when the Slayer glared at him. “Obviously, she had no right to touch your stuff.”

Buffy shook her head. “No, she didn’t, but there’s no point in trying to talk to her tonight. Hopefully, she’ll be feeling more like herself tomorrow.”

“Are we still Bronzing it tomorrow?” Willow asked hopefully. “We haven’t done that in forever.” She glanced over at William. “You’re coming too, right?”

“Eh, yes?” It was a question more than an answer, and it caused Buffy to roll her eyes at him.

“Of course you’re coming, you big doof.” She shook her head. “Okay, I have to patrol.” The Slayer glanced over at Xander and Willow. “Are you guys staying here?”

“I didn’t have any plans on leaving,” Willow said, elbowing Xander when he opened his mouth to remind her that they had planned on going to the movies. The witch knew that Buffy didn’t want to leave William alone for fear the First would manage to get to him again. “I thought we could just hang out here with William.”

William tried not to look too grateful. “Please do not feel obligated to stay.”

Even Xander couldn’t say no after that. “No, it’ll be nice to stay in.” He flopped down on the couch. “What’s on tonight anyway?”

~~~~~

The Bronze was nothing like what William was expecting. It was noisy, filled with people who seemed intent on jostling one another with a frenetic energy he couldn’t understand. Although there was nothing to set him apart from the crowd, he still felt as though he had a large target painted on his chest. As though everyone would know how much he didn’t fit.

Not that anything had changed much in a hundred years or more.

Buffy kept tight hold of his hand as she led him to the table where Xander and Willow were already sitting. “Anya’s going to be joining us,” she warned them.

“What? Why?” Xander blurted out, thinking he would have put on a nicer shirt if he’d known.

Buffy made a face. “D’Hoffryn’s apparently called vengeance on her. I stopped a demon from eating her this afternoon. It’s probably better if she sticks close to us for a while.”

“Probably,” Willow said wryly. “D’Hoffryn can be really persistent.”

“Tell me about it,” Anya said, appearing from out of the crowd to sit in the empty seat they’d saved for her. “He really doesn’t like it when people quit.” She glanced over at William with interest. “I see you did the spell. How’s that going for you, Spike?”

William glanced away. “It’s William,” he muttered.

“I see,” Anya said, lifting an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an interesting turn of events?”

Willow decided to rescue him from Anya’s sharp gaze. “So what’s this about having to go to the school today, Buffy?” she asked. She had been the one to take the phone call from the principal and had given them the number for Buffy’s work. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about it yet, and she was insanely curious.

Buffy sighed. “I honestly don’t know, Willow. One of the football players accused Dawn of shoving him down the stairs, but she insists that he tripped and fell. Apparently he’s lied about other things before, so the principal was inclined to believe Dawn.”

“And you don’t?” Xander asked, picking up on the doubt in her voice.

Buffy shrugged. “This R.J. was somehow involved. I really don’t understand it. This just isn’t like Dawn to get all googly eyed over some boy.”

“Oh, wow.”

Xander’s breathy exclamation had all heads turning to see what he was staring at. A shapely young girl was dancing erotically with a boy about her own age. “Roll your tongue in, Xander,” Anya said sharply.

“Ought she to be dancing like that with a young man?” William asked doubtfully. There was something familiar about the young woman.

“Probably not, but—oh, boy,” Xander said. “Daddy like.”

Then she turned around.

“Dawn!” Buffy exclaimed. William was out of her seat and heading in her direction before she could stop him. She couldn’t help but notice that he was walking like Spike, all the characteristic hesitation in his movements completely gone.

Xander and Willow wore identical horror-struck expressions. “I didn’t mean—not daddy. Forget the daddy comment.”

Willow grimaced. “Right there with you.”

Buffy had risen to go after William, who looked like he was about to embarrass Dawn. Not that her sister didn’t deserve a little embarrassment on some level.

William had actually grabbed her arm and was pulling her off the dance floor. “Let go of me!” Dawn protested.

“I think not!” he replied. “You are behaving in a shameful manner!”

Dawn pulled her arm out of his grip. “You’re not my father or my brother, so don’t think you can boss me around.”

“Dawn, that’s enough,” Buffy said, getting in between them. “William’s right.”

“What?” she gasped. “You have no right, Buffy.”

Buffy glared at her sister. “Excuse me? First of all, you lied to me. You said you were going to the library with Janice tonight. Second of all, what are you wearing? You look like a slut.”

“R.J. thinks I look hot,” Dawn shot back smugly.

William’s eyes glowed yellow, the first time Buffy had seen any sign at all of his vampire face. “I’ll rip his throat out,” he growled.

Buffy was torn between stopping him and crowing over the fact that bits and pieces of Spike were seeping through. “No, you won’t, sweetie. We are going home, though.”

“You aren’t my mother,” Dawn said. “You can’t force me.”

Buffy stared at her. “No, I’m not mom, but I don’t think she’d appreciate the way you’re acting either.” Dawn looked like she’d been slapped. “Dawn, I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“You’re jealous,” Dawn accused. “You’re jealous that I’ve finally got all the attention. You were always the one with the fan club, and now I have a hot guy panting after me.”

Buffy stared at her. “That’s not it at all!”

Dawn huffed. “Yeah, right.” She turned to go back out on the dance floor, but Buffy blocked her way.

“There’s no way you’re going back out there,” Buffy said. “You’re acting crazy.”

Dawn grabbed her coat and stormed off. William looked like he was still tempted to do some damage to R.J. “Come on, William,” she said, grabbing his arm and waving goodbye to the others. Xander was still looking a little shell-shocked.

They were just in time to stop Dawn from getting into a chick fight with a cheerleader. The girl rushed off, screaming threats at Dawn, and Buffy shook her head. “I really don’t get what’s up with this guy.”

~~~~~

William decided that he enjoyed the peace and quiet of an empty house. There had been yet more hysterics once they’d returned from the Bronze. Dawn had been angry with both of them for embarrassing her in front of her friends.

He was reading when Xander came rushing inside, dragging Buffy and a sobbing Dawn behind him. “William, we have a problem.”

William blinked. “What’s wrong?”

“Dawn’s just upset that R.J. is in love with me,” Buffy said calmly. “She doesn’t understand that a lot of men are attracted to older women.”

“What?” William asked. Something was definitely wrong here. “Xander?”

He shook his head. “It has to be a spell. I found Dawn outside the school crying, and Buffy was inside—” Xander stopped. He still wasn’t sure why Buffy had been at the school. The only thing he could think of was that she had gone to tell R.J. to lay off Dawn, and then had been hit with some sort of whammy. That could be the only reason that he’d found Buffy straddling a teenager inside an empty classroom. Major ick factor there.

William looked from Buffy to Dawn and then at Xander. “What would you like me to do?”

Xander ran a hand through his hair. Buffy was usually the one to take charge in a situation like this. For one wild moment, he wished desperately for Spike, but he soon shoved the thought aside. “I’m going to call Willow and Anya,” he said. “They can stay here and look after Buffy and Dawn while we do some reconnaissance.”

“Re—pardon me?” William asked, not sure what help Xander thought he might be.

Xander sighed. “We went to high school with R.J.’s older brother. I thought maybe we could dig around, find out what’s so special about this kid. I want backup because the guy’s a creep. He used to put gum in my hair.”

William’s eyes went huge. “You want me to what?”

“Just look menacing,” Xander said comfortingly. “You can still do that, right?” When William didn’t reply right away, he got an idea. “Just think about R.J. putting his hands all over Dawn—and Buffy.”

That got the reaction he wanted. William’s eyes glittered in fury. “He had his hands on Buffy?”

“Down, boy,” Xander cautioned, amused in spite of himself. “Just keep that look on your face, and we’ll be fine.”

~~~~~

Well, fine was an interesting way to put it. Once they’d figured out that it was the jacket that was causing all the trouble, Xander and William headed back to Revello Drive. While there had been no need of backup, Xander had realized that William wasn’t so bad to have around. In fact, he almost liked the guy. William reminded him of Willow a little, back when they were in high school.

If that had been all there was to it, there would have been no problem. Instead, it appeared that R.J. had come over while they were out, infecting both Willow and Anya. Xander just managed to keep Willow from completing the spell to turn R.J. into a woman, and then it was off to find Buffy.

The trouble was convincing William that he was the one to prevent Buffy from blowing up the principal with a bazooka. “I cannot hit a lady! It’s unseemly!”

Xander sighed. “It’s either you stopping her, or us visiting her on Saturdays at the State Penitentiary when they lock her up for murder.”

“Why me?” William asked.

Xander looked at him. “You might not feel like it, but you are a vampire, William. And you’ve given Buffy a run for her money before.” He patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll do just fine.”

William hadn’t really had to push himself, not since the night out with Buffy when they’d run into the vampires in the cemetery. Tackling Buffy was oddly exhilirating, however. He had this strange sense of déjà vu, as though he had done this before—tackled her onto the grass, rolling around.

William was fairly certain that a bazooka hadn’t entered into it, however. After managing to distract Buffy with the need to find Dawn, the Slayer managed to pull her sister off the train tracks just before she got run over. Then it was time to run all the girls home before Xander and William went after R.J.’s coat.

“You understand the plan?” Xander asked.

William gave him a wry look. “There isn’t much to it, is there?”

Xander found himself grinning. “No, I guess not. Ready?”

They dashed out of their hiding place, Xander grabbing R.J. and hanging on tight while William stripped him of his jacket. They ran, laughing like boys who had just managed to pull a prank. Stopping a few blocks away to let Xander catch his breath, their eyes met and understanding passed between them. “What shall we do with this?”

Xander stared at the jacket. “Burn it, I guess.”

“Do you ever wish—” William broke the question off before it was completed.

Xander knew what he was going to ask anyway. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“No, it would not. It wouldn’t be real love anyway,” he murmured.

The other man hesitated and then took a deep breath. “This was just a spell, you get that, right?” he asked. “I mean, she really does care about you.”

“Does she care for me, or does she care for Spike?” William asked. “I don’t know that either of us are sure.”

Xander wasn’t sure what to say to that. In some small way he could relate. It would be like Anya preferring one half of him over the other when he got split. It was a highly uncomfortable idea. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested, changing the subject. “We’d better burn that coat before any of the girls does something stupid. Again.”


	13. Rhythms

**“…No one can stop the river of your hands,/your eyes and their sleepiness, my dearest./You are the trembling of time, which passes/between the vertical light and the darkening sky./ The sky folds its wings over you,/lifting you, carrying you to my arms/with its punctual, mysterious courtesy./That’s why I sing to the day and to the moon,/to the sea, to time, to all the planets,/to your daily voice, to your nocturnal skin.” ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XLIX**

It was somehow easier after that. Having been a part of resolving the issue of R.J. and his magical jacket, William seemed to gain confidence. The nightmares still haunted him, but the First seemed to have taken a vacation, and their lives fell into a kind of rhythm.

There was a part of Buffy that found it difficult to remember what life had been like without William, what having Spike around had been like. She hadn’t gotten a chance to know the souled version, and so it was simpler to pretend that William _was_ Spike, Version 2.0.

The moments between sleeping and waking, when he would call her Slayer or pet or love, reminded her that it was a lie. There were moments when William would tilt his head or raise an eyebrow or smile at her in a way that was so purely Spike it took her breath away. Those were the moments she missed _her_ Spike most—when she missed her slaying partner, when she missed her lover.

William was making no moves to take over in that department. Buffy had the feeling that he was just as frustrated as she was; he was simply better at hiding it.

Still, there were things that Spike had never done that William didn’t seem to mind doing. Once Buffy had explained the necessity of helping around the house, he’d taken over doing the laundry with no complaints. He didn’t seem to mind cooking, and Buffy knew that she and Dawn were eating better now than they had in a long while.

William went to the grocery store with her, he helped Dawn with her homework, and he never made lewd comments.

Of course, Buffy kind of missed the lewd comments.

That was the problem. Although she liked William, and had no desire to see him gone, she still wanted Spike back. She missed the snark and the banter, the slaying and sex.

Buffy wanted to have her cake and eat it too.

By the time Christmas rolled around, their routine was set, and Buffy was beginning to suspect that she would have to make do with brief glimpses of the Spike she had known. Maybe it was penance—she hadn’t appreciated him enough when Spike was there, and now she had to live with his absence.

Buffy had forgotten one very important thing, however—the First enjoyed celebrating Christmas.

~~~~~

“What do you want for Christmas, William?” Buffy asked idly. They had just gotten through the first week of December, and it would soon be time to get a tree. The holiday season was just getting underway, and it looked to be a much happier one than the previous year.

They had been relaxing idly, Buffy watching an afternoon talkshow while William read. He glanced up from his book at her question, raising an eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

“What do you want for Christmas?” Buffy repeated.

A slight frown showed him to be deep in thought. “I’m not sure.” He smiled at her. “Surprise me.”

Buffy was silent, waiting for the question that nearly always followed. When he didn’t ask, she decided that she needed to take matters into her own hands. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want for Christmas?”

William blinked. He wasn’t certain of what precisely he was going to get Buffy for Christmas, but he’d planned on figuring it out on his own. Apparently, the Summers’ tradition was to ask, however. “What would you like for Christmas, Buffy?” he asked obediently.

“You.”

Both eyebrows went straight up into his hairline. “I beg your pardon?”

“I want you,” Buffy said as clearly as she was able.

“You want me.” William was trying to puzzle out the meaning of that statement when it hit him. “I—you—we—”

“I think we should do more than sleep when we’re in my bed,” Buffy said frankly. She felt kind of like Anya.

William was still struggling to assimilate her request. “But, you—”

“I love you,” Buffy said. She allowed a touch of hurt to creep into her tone. “Unless you don’t want me…”

“No!” William quickly assured her, since that truly was the furthest thing from his mind. “No, not at all. It’s just—shouldn’t we have some sort of understanding, or—”

“What’s to understand?” she asked, moving closer and watching his rather obvious physical reaction to her proximity. “I love you, I’m pretty sure you love me—”

“I do!”

“—we’re two consenting adults, who have needs,” Buffy continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I don’t know why we can’t act on it.”

William had loosened up quite a bit in the last few weeks. He’d had to. Still, what Buffy was suggesting went far beyond anything he’d ever imagined doing. It certainly went beyond what he’d thought he might do with a woman he would consider marrying.

Of course, from what he’d gathered, marriage didn’t seem a prerequisite to much these days.

He was still hesitating when Buffy kissed him. Up till now, their embraces had been fairly chaste. There certainly hadn’t been any tongue action, and their hands had remained in appropriate places. Mostly.

Buffy, however, was determined to offer him a taste of what he was missing, should William decide not to get her what she wanted for Christmas. Her hands were traveling to places they had never been before—not that William remembered, anyway. Her tongue teased his lips open, coaxing and teaching all at the same time.

It was interesting to be using some of the techniques that Spike had taught her on William, who hadn’t a clue.

He was a quick learner, though.

Of its own accord, one strong hand came to rest over her breast, and Buffy couldn’t suppress a shudder of need. She wanted this—wanted him. Wanted him _now_. She’d done without Spike for so long, and whatever else you could say about their relationship, the sex had been good.

No, better than good. _Mind-blowing_.

In spite of William’s inexperience, he was catching on pretty quickly, and she might have gotten to unwrap her Christmas present early except for a throat being cleared in the background.

“Can’t you guys get a room?”

Dawn’s wry tone had William halfway across the room before Buffy even registered that someone had spoken. She glared at her sister. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” Dawn replied. “I’m going out with some friends from school. You just seem to get really cranky when I leave without telling you these things. Of course, if you don’t mind—”

Buffy scowled. “I do mind, and—” She stopped, rising to grab Dawn’s arm and pull her into the hallway. “You couldn’t have left a note?” she hissed. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for William to loosen up enough to make out with me?”

“Is that what you two were doing?” Dawn asked innocently. “I thought you were trying to have sex with your clothes on.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “Do you ever want to be able to date without a chaperone?” she asked in a deceptively sweet tone. “Because I could make sure it doesn’t happen until you’re at least thirty-five.”

It was an idle threat and Dawn knew it. On the other hand, Buffy was completely capable of making sure that she didn’t date for the rest of her high school career, and Mike was looking like he might ask her to the spring dance. There was no way she was going to mess that up. “You know, I’m running late. I won’t be back till ten, so you two crazy kids have a great time.”

With that, Dawn was out the door, leaving Buffy to deal with the mess that was William.

It was definitely a mess, too.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” William asserted as soon as she came back into the living room. “Dawn will get the wrong idea.”

“Dawn doesn’t have a clue,” Buffy said, meaning every word. “I think we should take up where we left off.”

“We’re setting a poor example,” he protested. “We ought to have reached an understanding at the very least before doing—that.”

Buffy sighed. “Before making out? William, it’s no big deal. Trust me, we’ve done a lot more than that.”

She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. William was very sensitive where Spike was concerned. Any mention of his alter ego had him immediately questioning their relationship and her intentions. “You and Spike may have done many things, but I am not Spike.”

“No, you’re not,” Buffy agreed with another sigh. “I’m sorry, William. I shouldn’t have brought him into this, but—”

“I think it might be best if I moved back into the basement for the time being,” he said. “I don’t want Dawn getting the wrong idea about us. It would be unfortunate to encourage immoral behavior.”

Buffy winced. This was not how she had wanted the evening to go. She had the feeling that if she’d managed to get William to go all the way and do the deed, he’d enjoy it so much that it would outweigh the guilty feelings. She had hoped that by jumping his bones, she’d jump-start _him_.

So much for that idea.

William sleeping in the basement was out of the question, however. Buffy had been very careful in the last few weeks to make sure that William was never completely alone, especially not when he was vulnerable. Now that he and Xander were getting along, she didn’t have to worry about the other man saying something that would give the First a foothold. There were other times when William was susceptible, however, and that was the main reason he wasn’t sleeping in the basement.

The other reason was that Buffy liked having him there.

“No,” she said firmly. “The First—”

“Isn’t here,” William said, cutting her off. “It hasn’t troubled us for weeks. I hardly think that my sleeping in the basement will change any of that. It’s final, Buffy. This isn’t right.”

With that, he was gone, heading downstairs. Buffy stared after him, a look of determination appearing on her face. William wasn’t staying in the basement, no matter what he thought. She would give him some time to get himself under control, but that was it.

She wanted William, and Buffy was going to get him. She’d just have to make sure he wanted it too.

~~~~~

William reached the bottom of the stairs before he started shaking. He couldn’t believe what he’d nearly done. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted it! If he had any sense at all, he would march right back up those stairs and give Buffy exactly what she professed to want.

That was just it, though. William wasn’t so sure that Buffy did want him. Whatever she might think, he wasn’t Spike. He was scared to death that he wouldn’t be able to make her happy.

William was certain that in a comparison, he would be the one to come up short.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

He turned to see Buffy standing there, her arms crossed. He was too shaken to remember what the Slayer had told him weeks before about trying to touch her. William was an intelligent man, but like Spike, he had a tendency to think with his heart, and not his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Spike would have given me what I needed,” Buffy said. “I figured since you had taken his place, I’d make do, but you can’t even do that for me.”

William frowned. “It’s wrong. We shouldn’t—we can’t—”

“Hello?” Buffy cut him off. “I was asking for it. The first woman in history who actually desires you, and you run away. It’s no wonder Cecily didn’t want you. It had nothing to do with social status or money or anything else, William. It was you. _You_ were beneath her.”

At this point, William was starting to feel like running might be a really good option, and so he headed for the stairs. She was suddenly in front of him. Unless he went right through her, William was stuck. “I’ve changed!” he protested. “I’m not that man any longer.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me,” Buffy replied with a cruel smile. “You still don’t have a backbone.”

William frowned, reaching for something, anything, to defend himself. “I’m a good man.”

“Who cares?” Buffy asked. “Every woman wants a bad boy. Too bad you’re too scared to walk on the wild side.”

William had no desire to listen to her any longer. He turned his back, hoping that she’d get the idea. He had no idea how long he was standing there, just staring into space, when he heard Buffy’s voice from behind him.

“Look, William, I know that you probably don’t want to hear this, but I still think it’s a good idea for you to spend the night in my room.” There was some hesitation in her voice as she finished, “If it’ll make you feel better, you can sleep on the floor.”

He shut his eyes, pained. William knew he had missed his chance. “That might be the best idea.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t, though,” Buffy said quietly.

William turned to stare at her. “I thought—”

“I want you to be comfortable,” Buffy said. “But I want you.”

“You want Spike,” he retorted.

Buffy gave him a small smile. “Actually, I really want both of you.”

It wasn’t quite the right answer. William would have preferred if she’d said that she just wanted him and no one else, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Maybe coming in second best was good enough for the likes of him.

~~~~~

Buffy sensed that something was still wrong the next day. There was a distance between them that hadn’t been there for a while. She wanted the easy friendship back again, and she hadn’t a clue as to how to get it. How was she supposed to make it better?

There was no way she was going to leave things the way they were, that was for sure. She and William had come too far.

She finally managed to corner him after dinner the next day. “William? Is there something wrong?”

“No,” William replied, but there was a shortness in his tone that indicated not all was well.

Buffy came over and put a hand on his arm, feeling him stiffen under her touch. “Don’t lie to me.” Her tone was sharper than any she’d used for a long time.

“Why should you care?” he demanded.

Stunned, Buffy stared at him. “What are you—”

“I’m not him, Buffy!” William burst out. “I am not Spike, and I never will be. If you are waiting for him to come back, then please just let me be.”

“What part of ‘I want you’ did you not get?” she demanded in turn. “I love you. You’re—you’re not the same, but you are! You’re still the man I want, just one side of the same coin. I love you both equally!”

He shook his head. “I am weak, Buffy! I am not a strong man, and I—”

“Stop it!” Buffy was nearly in tears now, although she couldn’t have said why she was crying. It might have been because she could hear the echo of her own words in his. Every hateful thing she had ever said to Spike was now coming back to haunt her. “That’s not true!”

“Then why the bloody hell do you love me?” It was the first time William could remember raising his voice. Most certainly it was the first time he had shouted at a woman. The odd part was that he could not find it in himself to be sorry.

The words were Spike’s, but the accent was all William. And his expression—it was longing, uncertainty, fear, and naked desire all rolled up into one. Spike had looked at her like that.

Buffy had turned him away.

Was it some buried memory that was coming back now? Did he remember her rejection and fear it in some forgotten place in his heart? Was it the soul that she loved, or was it Spike? It was like loving two men at the same time, so different and yet so alike. It made her heart hurt and her head ache. Buffy knew that she could live without Spike returning at this point. She could live with only William, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t love Spike.

It seemed an impossible situation.

On the plus side, Buffy excelled at the impossible.

In the end, there was only one explanation for why she loved him, so she gave it. “Because you’re you, dumbass!” Buffy glared at him. “It’s you!”

“I’m not Spike!”

“I don’t care, dammit!” She was nearly ready to punch him. “I love you!”

So he kissed her.

William did it mostly to demonstrate how _not_ like Spike he really was. There was a small part of him that was hoping Buffy would get the picture and shove him away. Not that he didn’t want her, mind you, but he didn’t want her to make a mistake.

Correction. He didn’t want to bear the consequences should she decide she had made a mistake.

In the end, however, William played right into Buffy’s hands. The heat from their argument acted like a catalyst, and the heat of their anger turned into something else. Dawn had gone to the Bronze with a few friends, and Willow was at the school library studying, and so the house was empty. There was no possibility of being interrupted.

It wasn’t as though all his doubts evaporated with Buffy’s kiss. William was still dead certain that this back and forth thing between them would not end well, at least not for him. He had thrown caution to the wind, though.

If the truth were to be told, William wanted to know what it felt like to love and be loved in return, even if it was only an illusion. Even if it was a mistake, he craved Buffy’s touch.

There would be time enough to pay the piper tomorrow.


	14. For Love

**“…I feel no spring, while spring is well nigh blown,/I find no nest, while nests are in the grove:/Woe’s me for mine own heart that dwells alone,/My heart that breaketh for a little love./While golden in the sun/Rivulets rise and run,/While lilies bud, for springtide has begun./All love, are loved, save only I; their hearts/Beat warm with love and joy,/beat full thereof…” ~Christina Rossetti, L. E. L.**

William felt warm for the first time since he’d found himself in this place. Buffy lay draped over him, sated and spent, a smug little smile on her lips. He found it impossible to presume, however. Even though she appeared to be satisfied with the state of things, it was impossible to tell.

It seemed too soon to hope.

“Watcha thinking?” Buffy asked lazily, unwilling to move. William was a fast learner, and eager to please. His hands had seemed to remember what brought the best response of their own accord.

“I am thinking how very beautiful you are, my love,” he replied quietly, not knowing what else to say.

She gave a happy little sigh. “That’s a nice thought.”

“It is.”

The silence that fell was not entirely comfortable, and the Slayer pushed herself up in order to see his eyes. William could hide nothing when she met his eyes.

“Why are you scared?” she asked, immediately recognizing the emotion for what it was.

William couldn’t find it in himself to lie to her. “Because I am waiting for you to realize that you’ve made a mistake.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t, William. What is this?”

“I know that I’m—I’m spineless, and that Spike—”

Buffy put her fingers to his lips. “Whoah. Stop right there. Who told you that?”

“You did.”

The words were simple and stark, and the way he said them told Buffy that William had believed her with his whole heart. She frowned, frantically going over the past few days in her mind. She had said nothing of the sort, and she didn’t remember saying that before either. Not even right after they’d first done the spell.

“When?” she asked.

William frowned, seeing the confusion on her face. “Just the other day,” he replied. “You—”

He stopped, coming to the same conclusion she had, at very nearly the same moment. “No,” Buffy said flatly. “I didn’t. I can’t even believe that you would think—”

“I didn’t realize!” William protested. “We had just—and I was—”

He stopped, and Buffy took a deep breath. It wasn’t fair to blame him. William had come a long way in the last months, but it was unfair to expect that he would recognize the First every time it appeared, especially when it looked like her.

Especially when he was vulnerable.

“Don’t worry about it,” Buffy said finally. “It’s not your fault. I should have known something was wrong, and I forgot how much the First likes Christmas.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Buffy really didn’t want to go there. “It’s not important,” she replied. “It’s just that the last time the First showed up, it completely ruined Christmas Eve.”

“I am sorry, Buffy,” William said.

She stroked his cheek. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

The insecurity in his eyes was heartbreaking. “Was it—was I—”

“You were perfect, William.” Buffy spoke with perfect sincerity. “Really.”

His blue eyes searched her face, still unsure. “I love you,” William said, hoping that those words would make up for any disappointments she might be hiding from him.

“And I love you,” Buffy replied, laying her head on his chest. She couldn’t stop the feeling of dread, though. The First wasn’t done with them yet, and she thought it might be time to get busy finding out how to stop it for good.

~~~~~

Willow shook her head emphatically. “No. Oh, no, Buffy. Really, I couldn’t.”

“Please, Willow,” Buffy asked again. “I don’t know how else to find it. I’ve been all over town.”

The witch’s red hair was still swinging. “I can’t,” she repeated helplessly. “I’m really sorry, Buffy, but the last time I tried to do a spell where the First was involved…” She trailed off, glancing over at William apologetically. “We don’t know what kind of affect it would have. It could make things worse.”

William’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Things could hardly get worse.”

“Stop that,” Willow replied. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

He shook his head, although neither woman was certain if it was to agree or dispute Willow’s statement. William’s friendship with the witch had become even more solid over the last few months, and he would often unbend enough to engage in a spirited argument over some point in a book or movie with which they were both familiar.

Buffy often found that she was slightly envious of their relationship, since there was nothing unresolved hanging over them. There was nothing unspoken there, not like there was between her and William.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there was a lot left unsaid between her and Spike.

“You’re right, Wills,” Buffy responded. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt. I guess we’re just going to have to keep up the sweeps and hope for the best.”

William glanced over at her. “Should I accompany you?” he asked. “Perhaps I would be able to sense something as this thing seems particularly interested in me.”

It was a tempting offer. If William was right, he might be able to find the First where their previous attempts had failed. Buffy also didn’t want to risk him. “Not tonight,” she decided. “I’ll take Xander along with me. After that, though, it’ll definitely be worth a shot.”

He nodded unhappily, clearly not satisfied with the Slayer’s decision. “If you think it best.”

“I do,” Buffy replied, wishing for the hundredth time that she could take Spike along with her. “I’m going to call Xander. Willow, you’ll stay with him?”

Willow nodded, recognizing Buffy’s resolve face. “Are you okay?” she asked William.

“Of course,” he replied testily. “I dislike it when she speaks about me as though I am not here, however.”

Willow winced. “I know, William. She’s just worried about you is all.”

“She worries too much,” William replied, his eyes distant. “I don’t understand, Willow. What does this thing want with me? I am not so important.”

She sighed. “I don’t know, William. It might be partly because you’re with Buffy, and she’s the Slayer. Maybe it’s because vampires are supposed to be evil and you’re not. It came after Angel too.”

This was not the first time that anyone had mentioned Angel, and Buffy had mentioned that the First had come after her or someone she cared for in the past around Christmas. Willow’s frank words allowed him to put two and two together.

“Angel was Buffy’s—” William frowned, trying to come up with the word that would fit. There was enough of a disconnect in the language that he often wasn’t sure what the correct term might be.

Willow shrugged. “I guess you’d say Angel was Buffy’s boyfriend, but it was a lot more complicated than that.” She smiled at him. “It’s always more complicated.”

“So I’ve seen,” William said, his tone dry.

“Do you mind if I work on a paper?” she asked. “Finals are coming up, and I need to get some of this done if I don’t want to resort to magic for it.”

William nodded. “Of course. Your studies are important.”

“Yell if you need anything,” she called, going up the stairs.

He heard her bedroom door close a few seconds later, and then heard the front door close. Buffy had departed without saying goodbye apparently. William ran a weary hand through his hair. It was longer than it had been, as he hadn’t allowed Buffy to cut it. William had wanted something familiar.

There were still moments when he resented this world that he found himself in and the people who had brought him there. As the confusion had gradually lifted, the anger had grown. Although William knew that over a hundred years had passed, and that he’d experienced all of it, it felt more like he’d been rather rudely picked up and transplanted among strangers.

There were moments when he almost hated Buffy for what she’d done to him, and when he hated her more for loving Spike. It wasn’t fair, and so he kept those feelings to himself, but they were still there. Some of his anger had bubbled up the other day, and it had led to the argument, which in turn led to their love-making.

While some of his fear and resentment had been laid to rest, not all of it had. William sometimes wondered if he would ever truly be happy again.

If he’d ever been happy, that is.

“It’s never that easy you know. She won’t find it.”

William knew the voice coming from behind him, and he stiffened in fear and distress. “You’re not real,” he said, trying to sound firm, but there was a tremble in his voice.

“Look and see.”

He turned, and it was no less of a shock to see her standing there, looking no older than she had the day she died. “Don’t I look real?”

“You’re dead,” William insisted.

His mother smiled at him. “You killed me,” she corrected him. “Have you considered that, William? Have you thought about how very many people you have murdered?”

William shook his head, shutting his eyes to block out her face. “You’re the First,” he insisted desperately. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“I’m trying to show you the truth,” the thing that was not his mother replied. “No one else will. They all want to protect you.” Her smile shifted into something a little more cruel. “You always were a delicate boy.”

“Go away!” William didn’t want to look at her. He wanted his mother badly, but he wanted her as she had been

Her voice was gentle. “It’s time you embrace what you are.”

“I know what I am,” William replied, still refusing to look at her. “I’m—”

“A monster? A murderer?”

Her words forced him to look at her, and William saw what he had made of her for the first time. The golden eyes that met his were those of a demon, not the pious woman who had raised him. “I am—” William began weakly, breaking it off.

“You killed your own mother,” she said. And then she wasn’t there anymore, and he recognized George Byers, although his handsome face was marred by the railroad spike that pierced his skull. “And me. Don’t forget me, William. You killed me because I spoke the truth.”

William shook his head, a spark coming back into his eyes. “You were cruel.”

“You were always too sensitive.”

“You were a lout,” William shot back. “And you were a bully. Perhaps it was wrong to kill you, but I can’t be sorry I did.”

Sensing that it might have made a mistake, the First quickly shifted into the figure of a young woman William didn’t recognize. “Are you sorry you killed me?” she asked in a thick Cockney accent.

“Or me?”

“Or me?”

The First changed forms again and again, too fast for William to really comprehend anything except the fact that he had killed them all. Old men and women, babies and children, young men and women in the prime of their lives.

They had all died by his hand.

William might have given up at that moment. He might have decided that the First was correct—he was a monster deserving of death. He might have gone out to meet the sunrise, even though the thought of burning up was terrifying.

There were two things that saved him, however. The first was the memory of the night before with Buffy. He might be selfish, but he didn’t want to give that up.

The second thing was the bright, blazing anger that rose up in his chest, threatening to choke him. William had been pushed around one too many times. He had taken ridicule and jibes without counterattack. He had accepted strange people and their strange customs without argument.

William had, in short, accepted his role as a pawn in the grand scheme of things, and now he was tired of it.

He’d finally had enough.

“Hey, William,” Dawn said, coming through the door. “Is everything okay?”

When he turned to look at her, the girl was positive that Spike had somehow returned. “Spike?”

“Tell your sister I had to leave,” he said in William’s precise speech patterens.

Dawn moved in front of him. “Where are you going?”

“To end this,” William replied brushing past her and heading out the front door. Dawn stared after him in dismay.

“Buffy’s going to kill me,” she muttered, hesitating for only a moment before dropping her backpack. Dawn paused only to grab a weapon, before setting her jaw and following him out the door. There was no way she was going to let William go by himself, not even if she risked the wrath of the Slayer. He was too important to her these days.


	15. Reflections

**“You must know that I do not love _and_ that I love you,/because everything alive has its two sides;/a word is one wing of the silence,/fire has its cold half./I love you in order to begin to love you,/to start infinity again/and never to stop loving you:/that’s why I do not love you yet…” Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XLIV**

“This is getting us nowhere.”

Xander wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know. The Slayer had been all over town looking for the location of the First. She needed Giles or Willow. Buffy was beginning to think that maybe she’d rushed out too quickly. Last time she’d found the First by accident. It didn’t look like it was going to be that easy this time around.

“What do you suggest, Xander?” Buffy asked. “There’s no way I’m just going to sit around waiting for the First to do whatever it wants to with William.”

Xander gave her a sour look. “That’s not what I was suggesting, Buffy. I just think we should probably come up with a different plan.”

“I know, Xander. I’m sorry for snapping.” Buffy kicked at a clump of grass. “I’m just so tired of this.”

“What? Fighting the bad guys? It’s what we do, Buf.”

Xander’s broad grin called an answering smile from her. “It would be nice to have Christmas off, though,” Buffy replied. “Besides, we were doing just fine. Stupid First.”

“I’m assuming ‘we’ is in reference to you and William,” Xander said, his tone intentionally bland.

She shrugged. “Who else? What about you and Anya?”

“We’ve talked a few times,” Xander replied, recognizing her subject change for what it was. “I don’t think it’s ever going to be like it was.”

Buffy gave him an encouraging smile. “That’s not always a bad thing, Xan. Maybe it could be even better.”

Xander shrugged. “Anya did say she’d spend Christmas with me. Neither of us have anywhere else to go.”

“That sounds like a step in the right direction,” Buffy replied. They had returned to the Summers’ residence at this point, and they were met at the door by a worried Willow.

“Have you seen William or Dawn?” the witch asked, sounding slightly panicked.

Buffy frowned. “No, I thought you were staying with him.”

“I had to go work on a paper. He was supposed to call if he needed me.” Guilt colored her words. “When I came down to check on him a few minutes ago, William was gone, and Dawn’s backpack was just laying there.”

“Crap,” Buffy said succinctly. “I’m going to kill both of them.”

“Now, Buffy, we don’t know what happened. Maybe William just went for a walk,” Xander suggested. When Buffy gave him her death-glare, he quickly back-pedaled. “Okay, that’s unlikely.”

“I’m really, really sorry, Buffy,” Willow said. “I really didn’t leave him alone for that long.”

Buffy shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Wills. He’s a big boy, and he should have known better than to leave like that.”

“So what are we going to do?” Willow asked.

“Can you do a locator spell on William or Dawn?” Buffy asked. “It would be safer, right?”

Willow hesitated and then nodded resolutely. “Even if it wasn’t, I’m not sure we could risk not doing it. Who knows what the First wants?”

“Good.” Buffy set her jaw. “Let’s find him, then.”

~~~~~

Dawn stumbled and then righted herself again. “You shouldn’t be here.”

It was the fourth time William had said it, but Dawn wasn’t going anywhere. Plus, she knew very well that he didn’t want to take the time to see her home. If he swerved from his present course, it would be all too easy for him to lose his nerve. “You shouldn’t face this thing on your own.”

The girl’s retort had him turning. “What can you do, Dawn?”

“I can tell Buffy where to find your dust when this thing kills you,” she shot back.

William’s eyes burned with a familiar fire. “It cannot kill me. It is not corporeal.”

“Then how are you going to fight it?” she demanded.

He faltered slightly. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Dawn hurried after him. William was setting a quick pace. “You don’t even know where to find it. Admit it, William, we’re on a wild goose chase.”

“It is not,” he shot back. Then his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Perhaps you’re right,” William admitted. “I don’t know where I am going.” He glanced around, finally sitting down on the curb.

Dawn took a seat next to him. “I think you were really brave to even try.”

“I’m not brave,” William contradicted her. “I would like this to be over.”

She shrugged. “Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you’re not brave. It just means you aren’t stupid.”

William smiled at her. “How did you become so wise?”

“I live on the Hellmouth,” Dawn replied. After a moment’s pause, she asked quietly, “What did it say to you, William?”

He closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear to remember. “It showed me all the faces of the people I had killed.”

“Oh.” Dawn wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Well, you were a vampire.”

William frowned. “I killed people.”

“Yeah, but you were evil.” Dawn searched for the right words to use. “You’re not evil anymore. Vampires kill people, but you don’t. That’s a pretty big deal.”

He wasn’t buying it. “I don’t think—”

“You saved my life,” Dawn insisted. “A lot. I think that makes you a good man.”

“Vampire.”

“Man.”

William raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to let me get the last word, are you?”

“Why should I when I’m right?” Dawn asked smugly. “So are we going home?”

“Yes, I think—” William broke off, his head snapping around. “This way.”

Dawn gamely followed. “Are you sure?”

“I am certain of it,” he replied absently, hot on the trail. William couldn’t have explained how he knew where the First was, but he knew.

He was going to end this.

~~~~~

Willow took a deep breath before beginning the spell. Magic had always been a novelty—more than that, it had been her passion, her joy. After having almost destroyed the world, magic held more fear than joy, though.

At the moment, however, the spell was coming together. Her words were precise, her focus acute. Willow could feel the power running through her, but it was a mere trickle in comparison to some of the other spells she had performed in the past.

Her intent was pure—all she wanted to do was to find her friend. For the first time in a long time, the magic felt good, untainted, beautiful.

It hadn’t been like this since the first time she and Tara had done that spell together, when their only intention had been to save Buffy.

Tears were streaming down her face without Willow even being aware of it.

The small light over the map of Sunnydale was traveling to the northern edge of town. “Where is he going?” Xander asked. “There’s nothing out there.”

“There’s a cemetery,” Buffy said absently. “Named after the mayor. No one is ever buried there anymore, though, so it’s not one I usually check.” The Slayer rolled her eyes. “Which means it’s a perfect place for the First to set up shop.” Her eyes caught the gleam of tear tracks on Willow’s cheeks. “Willow? Are you okay?”

Willow hesitated and then nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Really.”

Their eyes met in a moment of shared understanding. Only another woman could fully understand why you might cry when you were happy.

“You up for coming with us?” Buffy asked softly.

Willow smiled. “Absolutely. Fully ready to kick some butt.”

“Xander?”

“You think I’d stay behind for this one?” he asked.

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. It finally felt as though everything was back to normal. Not like it had been, but maybe it would be better.

If she could just make sure that Spike—William was okay, things would be just about perfect.

~~~~~

William wasn’t sure where he was going. While he and Buffy had gone for walks and such at night quite frequently, they hadn’t come to this area of town before. In fact, William was certain that Buffy had purposely avoided the areas of Sunnydale she’d known to be dangerous. Not since the first night they’d been out had he been forced to fight—or run.

Now he was walking into danger knowingly, without the Slayer by his side.

“You should go find your sister.” William turned to Dawn. “We’re getting close.”

Dawn shook her head stubbornly. “No. I’m not leaving you.”

“I’m not going to put you in danger.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hello? I’m out after dark, and you’re asking me to walk home by myself. I’m probably safer with you.”

With a sinking feeling, William realized that she was correct. He shouldn’t have let her come along at all. “Dawn—” he began.

“It’ll be fine,” Dawn said. “I’ve been in more dangerous situations, and I’ve survived. We’re here to stop the First, right? So let’s stop it.”

William squared his shoulders resolutely. “Right, then. Let’s go.”

They both entered the woods with a sense of trepidation. Neither had thought to bring a flashlight, and the darkness pressed in around them. William stumbled over a root, and suddenly realized that he could see a little better. “Dawn? Are you alright?” he called back over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah.”

At the hesitation in her voice, he frowned. “Are you quite sure?”

The polite words and tone coming from the demon’s mouth had Dawn giggling at the incongruity. “I’m fine. It’s just that I haven’t seen the fangs for a long time.”

Puzzled, William shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.” In reply, Dawn took his hand and put it to his face. William’s eyes widened comically. “Oh! I don’t know—what—”

“It’s okay,” Dawn assured him. “I’ve seen the bumpies enough so they don’t really freak me out. Besides, you can actually see better that way.” She tucked her hand into his. “Lead the way, William.”

He found Dawn’s hand in his oddly reassuring. William knew that it was ridiculous to feel better because of a young girl’s company, but he did. Perhaps it was due to Dawn’s blithe confidence in him. He couldn’t help but believe that they would make it through.

William followed his instincts to a clearing inside a ring of dead trees. Both he and Dawn could hear voices, but neither of them could see anyone.

“Was it really wise to bring her here, William? You don’t want to lose her too, do you?”

William hurriedly put Dawn behind him. “She has nothing to do with this,” he shouted. “You leave her be!”

“You brought her,” the First pointed out, its figure emerging from the shadows. It looked like his dead sister this time, appearing just as she had been at age eleven. “Remember when I died, William? In your arms? I’m surprised you’d risk her life just for the company.”

William shook his head. “It isn’t like that,” he argued. “You aren’t real.”

“I’m more real than you are.” Its form shifted to one even less familiar to him than his sister’s, although Dawn’s gasp behind him indicated that she recognized him. “What’s the matter, mate? Cat got your tongue?”

~~~~~

Buffy, Willow, and Xander stared into the shifting shadows of the woods in dismay. “Damn,” the Slayer muttered. “I don’t suppose either of you guys thought to bring a flashlight, did you?”

The branches of the trees shut out even the moonlight, and the darkness was thick and inky. Buffy’s night vision was good, but not that good. Xander held up a heavy-duty flashlight with a grin. “It helps to be tool-guy sometimes.”

She smiled back. “Good going, Xan.”

With the help of the flashlight, they managed to pick their way through the trees without tripping and breaking something. “How close are we, Willow?” Xander asked.

The witch grimaced. “I don’t know.”

“I thought that’s why we did the locator spell,” Buffy said.

Willow shook her head. “It is, and the spell said William was here.” They looked around. “Somewhere.”

“He could be anywhere!” Buffy protested, her voice squeaking with a rising sense of panic. Her little sister and her boyfriend were somewhere in the woods with the First Evil intent on screwing up her life. What if it managed to do what it had threatened a couple months back? What if William was forced to kill Dawn?

Xander’s hand squeezed her shoulder in a reassuring grip. “We’ll find them, Buffy. William’s made of stronger stuff than that.”

Buffy wasn’t so sure, but she nodded anyway. There was no point in getting panicked and losing her head. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Xander replied, joking. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Do you want a single example or a list?” Willow asked wryly.

Xander made a face at her. “That was a rhetorical question.”

“Maybe you should label them, then,” Willow quickly replied.

Buffy couldn’t help smiling. It was definitely just like old times. Her friends quipping to relieve the tension, Dawn needing rescuing, and Spike—William in the middle of it all. Of course, if it was really like old times, there would soon be monsters leaping out of the bushes to prevent them from getting there on time.

The rustling of the branches told her she’d just jinxed them. “Uh oh.”

As one, Xander and Willow retreated behind her as several vampires emerged from the darkness. “Slayer,” one of them hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, just doing some spring cleaning,” Buffy replied.

One of the other vampires, obviously not very bright, protested, “But it’s not spring.”

“Is that right?” Buffy asked innocently. “Well, my calendar must be completely off.”

She sprang into action, and Xander and Willow stood back to watch. “We should have brought snacks,” Willow lamented.

“No kidding,” Xander replied. “It’s nice to see that Buffy hasn’t lost her edge, though.”

“Definitely.”

“Do you think we should help?”

Willow watched as the Slayer kicked one of the vampires in the chest, sending him flying. He dusted as he was impaled on a dead branch. “Nah. We’d just be in the way.”

A few moments later, and all the vampires were dust. Buffy was tired of playing. “Let’s go, guys. I need to save my boyfriend’s ass.”

Xander and Willow glanced at each other before falling into step behind the Slayer. “I’d hate to be in William’s shoes when Buffy gets her hands on him,” Xander murmured.

“You’re telling me,” Willow replied. “And Dawn’s going to be grounded for life.”

With that, they followed her deeper into the woods.


	16. Death of Innocence

**“Love dragged its tail of pain,/its train of static thorns behind it,/and we closed our eyes so that nothing,/so that no wound could divide us./This crying, it’s not your eyes’ fault;/your hands didn’t plunge that sword;/your feet didn’t seek this path;/this somber honey found its own way to your heart./When love like a huge wave/carried us, crashed us against the boulder,/it milled us to a single flour;/this sorrow fell into another, sweeter, face:/so in an open season of the light/this wounded springtime was blessed.” ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet LXI**

William knew his own face, unfamiliar as it was. Buffy’s picture of him had been taken recently enough that he knew what he looked like these days.

It still didn’t prepare him for the shock, though.

William’s face metamorphosed into its usual human form, and Dawn looked from one to the other in alarm. It was easy to tell them apart. William had let his hair grow for the last couple months, and so it was two-toned and curly, giving his face a softness that had never been there with Spike.

It was strange to see the differences in them up close and personal, though. Dawn had forgotten how dissimilar Spike and William really were, even though this wasn’t really Spike. William was wearing the clothes Buffy had helped him pick out, and his hair wasn’t slicked back, and he didn’t have the duster on.

His expression was twisted in fear and shame, and Dawn was certain she’d never seen Spike look like that.

Not since the tower, anyway.

Not-Spike circled William in a familiar predatory prowl. “You’re not real, you know,” he said in a conversational tone. “You’re the result of a spell, an’ when that’s broken, you’ll be gone. Everything you think you have is a mirage. Everything you think you are has been in the grave for more than a hundred years.”

“I am real!” William shouted, although his voice shook. “You are nothing more than the bogeyman in the closet.”

Spike smirked. “Wrong, you prancing git. I’m in everything. I’m the First Evil. I was here before anything else. There is nothing that I don’t touch. You can’t get rid of me.”

William swallowed. “You don’t own me, nor do you control me.”

“You’re a demon,” the First crowed with Spike’s voice. “I _made_ you!”

“I’m a good man!” he replied a little desperately.

Spike smirked, his face transforming, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. “This is what you are.”

William was trembling uncontrollably at this point, his blue eyes wide and frightened. Still, he held his ground stubbornly. “That is what I was. I can be a good man.”

“What makes you think your nature won’t take over?” the First demanded. “What makes you think you won’t kill those that you love? Like her?”

When the First pointed, William turned. He would have paled if that had been possible. There was a man holding a long, curved dagger to Dawn’s throat. Her eyes were wide with fear, silently pleading with him to do something, to save her. “You brought her here,” his own voice said. “You’ll be responsible for her death.”

“No,” William whispered.

“Oh, yeah,” the First replied smugly. “They’ll all die because of you.”

“No.” His voice was stronger this time.

“You’re nothing.” The voice was going on, but William wasn’t really listening. He was trying to figure out how to save Dawn. “You’re less than nothing. You’ll kill them all or get them killed. You’re evil to the core, and you always will be.”

William turned to face it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said calmly.

His own face smirked. “Sure I do.”

“No, you really don’t,” William said, his voice becoming stronger as he spoke. “That’s because you don’t know anything at all, not about love or sacrifice or faith. You will not have Dawn, and I will be dust before you have me.”

There was a flicker of some unreadable emotion in the eyes of the First. “I _made_ you,” it repeated.

William smiled. “No. I made myself.”

And then he leapt.

~~~~~

They hadn’t found William or Dawn, but they’d managed to find the First’s Harbingers. Between Buffy’s fists and boots and Willow’s sleep-spell, all of them were soon unconscious, the circle and cauldron broken and discarded.

Willow made a face. “This is bad news.”

“What is?” Buffy asked, looking around for any sign of William or her sister.

The witch shuddered. “Can’t you feel it? This place is saturated with dark magic.”

“This place is definitely giving me the creeps,” Xander agreed. “What are we going to do?”

Willow shook her head. “I should cleanse this place. It might help prevent the First from using it again.”

“Anything you can do, Wills,” Buffy agreed. “Xander, stay with her.”

Xander looked like he was about to protest, and then shut his mouth when he saw the look Buffy was giving him. “You’ve got it, Buf.”

The ‘Bringers had been in a cave set into a hill, and the Slayer thought there was a good possibility that the First would be close by. She had no doubt that William would be near the First. She wasn’t quite sure how long the First would stick around now that the Harbingers had been dispensed of, but there was no way she’d take a chance with William’s or her sister’s life.

Buffy shivered, remembering the hungry expressions on the Harbingers’ sightless faces. She honestly didn’t get them. Vampires, demons, they were supposed to be evil. Not that she liked vampires or demons, but she understood them. They were the enemy.

Why humans had to join the side of the enemy, Buffy just didn’t understand.

William’s voice came to her, and he sounded panicked. Buffy picked up the pace, moving carefully over the rough terrain. The trees flashed past her in the darkness as she started running faster. She was scared to death that she was going to arrive too late.

She couldn’t lose either of them. Buffy wasn’t sure she’d survive it.

When she came upon the clearing, William was struggling with a ‘Bringer, a laceration on his arm bleeding freely. Buffy immediately knew that the figure of Spike looking on was actually the First.

Buffy was about to rush forward to help him when Dawn grabbed her arm. “No, Buffy. Let him do this. It’s important.”

There was a small nick on Dawn’s throat, and Buffy could see the sheen of blood gleaming darkly in the moonlight. “What happened?”

“That guy grabbed me, and William saved my life,” Dawn replied simply. “The knife nicked the skin. It doesn’t even hurt really.”

Buffy watched as William struggled manfully. He was holding his own, and she could see some of Spike’s familiar grace entering his movements. “The chip isn’t working,” Buffy commented.

Dawn shook her head. “I guess not. William didn’t even flinch when he hit him. Either that, or they aren’t quite human anymore.”

Buffy wouldn’t have been surprised at that last. She hadn’t bothered asking Spike if the chip still worked, though, so she had no idea if it had come out when the soul went in. “You are so grounded, by the way.”

Dawn was still intently watching the fight. She instinctively knew that William needed to face this on his own, which was why she had prevented Buffy from interfering. “You would have done the same thing!” she protested.

“You could have left a note,” Buffy pointed out.

“There wasn’t time.”

“Fine. But next time you do something like this, you’re going to be grounded for life.”

“Fine.”

~~~~~

Dimly, William was aware that Buffy had shown up, and he was relieved when Dawn stopped her from stepping in.

The First had expected him to attack it, but William had been well aware that if it was incorporeal, he’d just pass right through and end up making a fool out of himself by landing on his face. Instead, he’d tackled the ‘Bringer, knocking Dawn away. He thought perhaps she’d gotten scratched a bit from the knife, but she was safe, and that was all that mattered.

As he fought, his muscles seemed to remember what to do, even if he didn’t. Something was bubbling up inside him, much as it had when they’d gone after R.J. and his magical jacket. It was more primal this time, more real. It was frightening, and reassuring at the same time. This was something he remembered.

This was what he was.

William grappled with the ‘Bringer, trying to ignore the pain in his arm where the knife had cut deeply. In a motion that was mostly reflex, William twisted his body and the other man’s arm, using the momentum to shove the knife deep into the ‘Bringer’s chest.

The Harbinger gasped once and then collapsed, leaving William standing with blood-stained hands.

“You’ll never be clean.” It was the First again, this time in the form of Buffy.

William stared at her. “Maybe not, but I can ensure that I shed the right blood for the right reason.”

“You can’t love!” The First’s protests were growing weaker now. It knew it had lost, and without the support from its Harbingers, it could no longer manifest. Still, it was unwilling to go without causing as much damage as possible. “You’re nothing but a monster!”

William smiled gently. “And didn’t the Beast love Beauty?”

It was perhaps fitting that it would be a poet who finally defeated the First, at least for a time. That it was not brawn or cunning, for both could be used for evil. What gave William the strength to face the First was both simple and incomprehensible; it was love.

With a scream, the First’s true face appeared, and William flinched, feeling a coldness pass through him. For a moment, he thought he had been turned inside out, and then darkness took him.

~~~~~

Buffy darted forward when the First changed forms—from Spike to her to the ravening monster she’d seen when she’d faced it down on Angel’s behalf. It was a little eerie, seeing her own face reflected back to her.

When it appeared to pass through William and disappear, leaving him in a heap on the ground, Buffy feared that it had tried to possess him or something. “William?”

There was more than a little alarm in her voice. Buffy had no desire to lose him. “Come on, William. Wake up.”

His eyes fluttered open and he stared at her with a dazed expression. “Buffy?”

He spoke only one word, but Buffy knew immediately. William was gone. “Spike?”

The vampire groaned, pushing himself up from the ground. “Yeah,” he replied shortly. “Don’t know what it did, but it broke that little spell you put on me.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who asked for it,” Buffy shot back, the dregs of worry causing her tone to be sharper than she’d intended.

Spike looked up, meeting her eyes briefly before glancing away. “Right. Yeah. Let’s get out of here, huh?” He stood slowly, ignoring Buffy’s offer of help, pausing only to smile at Dawn. “Thanks for comin’ with me.”

“Anytime,” she replied with an answering smile.

An understanding passed between them, and Spike nodded. They were still friends; they always would be. “Good of you, Bit.”

That was it. Spike didn’t speak again during the long walk home.

~~~~~

Buffy had no idea what was going on. Spike had refused to look at her or even speak to her. Once they had reached the house, he had immediately announced his desire to get cleaned up and retreated into the bathroom with the door locked.

She knew because she’d tried the door.

Although Buffy had hoped that Spike would someday return, she hadn’t given much thought to what she would do when he did. How much did Spike remember about his time as William? Had he been witness to all of it? Because if he had, he must know how she felt about him.

She heard the front door open and close, and she went downstairs to greet an exhausted Willow. “Xander dropped me off,” the other woman explained. “He said he had to be at the site early tomorrow, otherwise he would have come in.”

“That’s fine,” Buffy replied. “I’ll give him a call tomorrow. How did it go?”

“It’s clean,” Willow said with a weary smile. “There were even a few blades of grass beginning to shoot up when I left.”

Buffy’s smile widened. “That’s wonderful, Willow.”

“Yeah, it really is,” she agreed. “This was what I’ve been training for, to bring healing and to help.”

Buffy gave her a grateful hug. “You helped big-time tonight.” She hesitated, and then said, “Spike’s back.”

Willow’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Something the First did as it left—I don’t know. William passed out, and when he opened his eyes, he was Spike again.”

Willow searched Buffy’s face. “Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted. “I love him, Wills, but—I got used to having William around.”

“It’ll take some time, but you’ll get used to having Spike around too,” Willow said.

Buffy shook her head. “He wouldn’t talk to me—or even look at me—on the way home.”

“It was probably pretty disorienting,” Willow consoled. “Give it some time.” She yawned. “I’ve got to get to bed.”

“You should do that,” Buffy replied, watching her friend head up the stairs. The Slayer paused for a moment before following, opening her bedroom door to find Spike standing by the window.

“How are you?”

“Good.”

“That’s good.” Buffy watched him. “Spike—”

“Don’t say it,” he replied shortly. “I know.”

Buffy frowned. “What do you know?”

“I know you loved him.”

There was an ache in his voice that started up an answering pain in her heart. “I loved you.”

“I’m not William.”

“Actually, you pretty much are.” Buffy snorted. “And what was that ‘I’ve always been bad’ crap?”

A hint of a smile played around the corners of his lips. “I was tryin’ to impress you.”

“Uh huh.” Buffy smiled as he met her eyes and the air slowly grew charged. “Spike—”

He shook his head. “It’s okay, Buffy. I remember, you know. All of it. It was like I was there an’ not there. Little hard to explain. But I know you loved him.”

“Then you have to remember me telling William that I loved you too.” Buffy sighed. “William is a part of who you are, Spike, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“What I did—” Spike nearly choked on the words.

Buffy strode forward, feeling the sudden need to have contact. “You got your soul for me.” Spike still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Spike—”

“Don’t, please,” he whispered. “I can’t bear it, Buffy. Just let me go.”

“Dammit!” Buffy burst out, surprising the both of them with the passion that exploded out. “Would you let me finish my freaking sentence?” Spike swallowed, and then nodded numbly. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I missed you, you big, dumb—vampire!”

Spike blinked, nonplussed. “I thought—”

“Because you wouldn’t let me finish,” Buffy said sharply. “I swear, you are so thick-headed sometimes. Before we did the spell, I was trying to tell you that I loved you. I just couldn’t get the words out.”

The first signs of a pout crossed his face. “You could tell William easily enough.”

“Maybe that’s because William didn’t act like such a jackass,” Buffy replied in a falsely sweet voice.

They stared at each other. “Is this even going to work?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied honestly. “I thought it was going pretty good.”

Spike gave her a pained smile. “It was. These last few weeks—I think they were the best I’ve ever had, luv.”

She had to blink away tears. “Me too. I mean, it was really, really good.” There was a long silence. “I don’t want you to leave, Spike.”

“You don’t know me, Buffy,” he said gently. “Not really, not with the soul. You don’t even know who you’re talking to.”

“I’m talking to you!” she exploded. “Haven’t you heard a word that I said? I loved you before you got the soul, and I loved William, and I love you!”

She kissed him then, desperately, hoping to make him see. Buffy couldn’t bear to let him go, not after what they’d been through.

Not after she’d just found him again.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Spike whispered, pulling back slightly, although he made no move to let her go. “You don’t want this.”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Buffy replied, but there was no heat in her tone.

He sighed. “Okay.”

“Don’t leave.” It was half-command, half-plea. “I know this is weird and awkward and you feel like we don’t know each other or something, but stay anyway.”

Spike closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her. “Alright, luv. I’ll stay long as you want.”

Buffy noticed that he didn’t say he loved her in return, but he didn’t let her go, either. She supposed that was good enough for the moment.


	17. Finding Yourself

**“I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,/or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off./I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,/in secret, between the shadow and the soul…I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where./I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;/so I love you because I know no other way/than this: where _I_ does not exist, nor _you_,/so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,/so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.” ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII**

“So where’s the bleached wonder, Buf?” Xander asked. He was helping her put the finishing touches on her Christmas decorations, and the Slayer smiled slightly.

“Spike and Dawn went to finish their Christmas shopping,” she replied lightly. “Dawn wanted to use his wheels.”

Xander gave her a sharp look. “How are you these days, Buffy?”

His tone was gentle, reminding her of the boy she had loved like a brother. This was the Xander she had come to care about so deeply. He’d been hard to see these last couple years.

Buffy supposed he might say the same about her.

“I’m good,” she said, trying to sound like it was the truth.

Xander knew her better than that. “Buffy…”

“I miss it, you know,” she finally said, almost absently. “I mean, William’s still there, so it’s not like I miss _him_ exactly. It was just—there wasn’t any pain between us, Xan. He’d never tried to kill me, and I’d never hurt him. Things were good.”

Xander sat back on his heels, giving her a compassionate look. “Buffy, that wasn’t the reality of it.”

“I know that,” Buffy said quickly. “I do. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss it. We used to just be able to sit together, and now there’s this really awkward space between us.” She didn’t tell him that Spike hadn’t made love to her, figuring that was probably too much information for him.

Xander had found that he had a much harder time hating Spike after liking William. Besides, it was nice to have another guy around on a regular basis.

Plus, William had made Buffy happy. Xander had seen that much, and it had been a long time since his friend had truly been happy.

“Give it time,” he finally advised. “Spike is obviously not going anywhere.”

Buffy shook her head, unable to explain that it felt like he’d already left.

~~~~~

“What do you think?” Dawn asked, holding up a sweater. “Would Buffy like this?”

Spike shrugged uncomfortably. “Dunno, Bit.”

She gave him a dirty look. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, knowing very well what she meant, but unwilling to play along.

Dawn wasn’t willing to put up with it. “You know what. You and Buffy are both miserable, and it’s getting really old.”

Unlike his relationship with Buffy, Spike had slipped back into a comfortable friendship with Dawn. His time as William had done him no harm in her eyes. “It’s complicated, Bit,” he replied gruffly.

Dawn stopped dead in her tracks, grabbed his arm and hauled him over to an empty bench. “Stop it,” she said, sounding really irritated. “I am not a child, Spike. I know what happened between the two of you, and I know about complicated. So don’t patronize me with that kind of shit.”

Spike very nearly reprimanded her for her language, and then he shut his mouth with a snap. Dawn had grown into a young woman in the last year. Circumstances had tried her, and she had come through with flair. A genuine smile touched his lips, the first one Dawn had seen in more than a week. “What?”

“You’re all grown up,” he murmured.

“Well, duh,” Dawn replied, sounding pleased nonetheless. “Spike, what is it?”

Spike stared at his hands. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly. Having no idea why he was unburdening himself to a sixteen-year-old girl, Spike said, “I don’t feel quite real, Dawn.”

“Oh.” Dawn stared at him unhappily, remembering what the First had taunted him with. She understood, and yet she wasn’t sure how to fix it. Dawn tried to recall what she had done to make herself feel real, but she had the feeling that self-injury wasn’t the way to go with Spike. “You’re the most real person I’ve ever known.”

Their eyes met, and in that one moment all the pain and anger between them was gone, as though it had never been. It was _that_ summer all over again, when they were thick as thieves, when their bond was the only thing keeping them together.

Spike found that some of his burden had been lifted. “Ta, luv.”

“Come on,” Dawn commanded, rising. “We still have to finish our Christmas shopping.”

He stood, the first glimmers of an idea beginning to take shape.

~~~~~

“Happy Hanukkah, Red,” Spike said softly as he entered the kitchen.

Willow glanced over at him in surprise and then gave him a wry little smile. “Hanukkah was a couple of weeks ago, Spike.”

He shrugged. “I know, but I wasn’t sure what holiday you were celebratin’ this year. Yule’s a couple days from now.”

Willow was touched that Spike had even gone to the trouble of finding out when those holidays were. She shrugged in response to his unspoken question. “I celebrate with my friends and family,” she replied. “The actual date doesn’t matter nearly as much.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

Willow peered at him. Spike looked almost—shy. It was an expression she recalled seeing on William’s face, but never on Spike’s. Or perhaps it had been there, and she hadn’t been looking. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I was just—uh, getting some blood.”

Willow supposed that one really nice thing about having Spike back was that they didn’t have to make sure he ate.

“Do you miss him?” Spike asked out of the blue.

Willow blinked, trying to figure out who he was talking about. “Do I miss who?”

“William.”

“Spike, you’re William.” Willow frowned, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. “Or William was you. That’s sort of like trying to figure out which came first, the chicken or the egg.”

Amusement lit his eyes. “S’pose that’s one way of puttin’ it.”

“What’s this about?” Willow asked quietly, touching his arm.

Spike shrugged. “’s just, you were—” He broke off abruptly. “Forget it.”

“I’m still your friend, if that’s what you’re asking,” Willow said quietly. When Spike didn’t reply right away, she continued. “I know that we didn’t treat you very well after Buffy came back. Is that what you’re worried about?”

He was silent for so long Willow thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said hoarsely, “It was easier, you know, bein’ William. Harder too, I guess, but mostly easier.”

Willow hadn’t really thought about it like that. She imagined that the lack of memory would be like her suddenly forgetting that she had killed a man and nearly destroyed the world in the process. It would be like regaining your innocence, only to lose it again. She reached for his hand, much as she’d reached for William’s. “I think I get that.”

Spike looked over at her, his eyes grateful for her understanding. “’m not sure what to do,” he admitted.

Willow smiled. “Just be Spike. It’s all she wants, you know.”

He didn’t say that he wasn’t sure who that was any longer.

~~~~~

Spike stood next to the window in Buffy’s room, looking out into the darkness. The Slayer had gone out on patrol, and he was waiting patiently.

He wondered when he’d learned patience.

The house was silent. Dawn and Willow were asleep; Spike could hear their slow heartbeats, and knew that they slept deeply and dreamlessly. Leaning against the windowsill, Spike wondered what his next move ought to be. He had found a place here, in this house, but he had been William then, and now he was someone different.

Spike wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He remembered his time as William as a person remembers a dream. It had been strangely perfect, and he knew that Buffy had been happy.

_William_ had made her happy.

It was nearly impossible to describe what regaining his memories had been like, which is why he hadn’t tried. He had simply opened his eyes and been Spike again—the same vampire who had nearly raped the woman he loved. The one who had failed to save her.

The one she’d used.

That was the worst of it. The peace they had found for a brief few weeks had largely been a lie. It had been easier when he didn’t remember, when Buffy could pretend to forget, and now every hurtful word and action stood between them again. This time, however, it was worse, because they both knew how good it might have been.

There was a piece of him that wondered if he shouldn’t leave. Spike had thought he might before they had done the spell. Once he was lucid enough to think at all, he had believed it would be better that way. Maybe it would still be better, but he was a selfish git, and he didn’t want to go.

Even if it would be better if he left, Spike wanted to stay. He never had been one for giving up.

“Spike.”

Her quiet voice startled him out of his thoughts, and Spike turned to meet her gaze. “How was patrol?”

“Good,” she replied. “Pretty quiet, actually.”

“That’s good.”

It was, perhaps, the lamest conversation in the history of the world, and they both smiled at the same time. “We’re really pathetic,” Buffy commented.

“Yeah, s’pose we are.” Spike’s eyes were unfathomable. The Slayer wondered why he was in her bedroom, because he’d retreated to the basement after his memories had returned.

Then she realized that he was wearing the clothes she’d purchased for him, not the usual black-on-black he’d been wearing for the last week and a half. “Why are you here, Spike?” she asked, her tone taking the sting out of her words.

He hesitated, and then replied quietly, “I thought you might want your Christmas present early.”

Buffy froze, stiffening in surprise. “You—”

“Assumin’ that’s what you still want for Christmas,” he rambled on, suddenly terribly unsure of himself. “I wouldn’t—we don’t need—”

Buffy stopped him with a kiss. “I think we do.”

It was slow. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Buttons were undone one by one, care was taken as each garment was removed. They were both shaking—although from desire or fear, neither could say.

This time they were making love with the truth laying stark between them.

At one point, Spike stopped, his breathing harsh and ragged, though unnecessary. He seemed poised between staying and leaving, and Buffy knew that if he left now it would be the end. This was the moment of truth when they chose between taking the easy way out and going forward, even though that would be harder.

But when had things ever been easy?

“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “Please, Spike, stay.”

“I can’t give you what you want,” he said, a little desperately.

Buffy shook her head. “No, but you can give me what I need.”

“I can’t do this again.”

She knew without being told what he was referring to. “You won’t have to. I love you.”

It was enough. It was all he’d ever wanted.

~~~~~

Christmas was a subdued affair, although it was quite a bit more cheerful than it had been the year before. Xander and Anya were both there, making the first tentative advances towards a relationship of some sort. Buffy had the sense that neither of them were quite sure what they wanted from the other, but they were at least trying to find out.

Willow was more at peace than she had been in a long time, and it showed. Buffy was happy for her, relieved to see a little of the old Willow returning. Dawn was almost perky, contemplating her first big date with Mike, causing Buffy to remember what that first crush had been like, both innocent and tentative.

Spike seemed to be regaining a little of his equilibrium. Buffy had seen how touched he was at the gifts he’d been given. The soul had seemed to strip away a few of the masks he had often worn, and Buffy could tell how his open pleasure had affected the others. Even Xander found little to complain about where it concerned Spike these days.

Buffy heard the back door open, and she felt him without turning around. “Hey.”

“Hey, pet.”

She turned. Spike was wearing blue jeans and one of his black t-shirts in a melding of old and new. “Did everyone leave?”

“Yeah, finally,” he said, some of his old humor creeping into his voice and eyes. Spike was silent for a moment and then said, “’m sorry your Watcher couldn’t make it, Buffy.”

Buffy briefly considered brushing off the comment, as though Giles not coming wasn’t a big deal, but that would be a lie. She wished that he had been able to make it. “I wish he was here,” she said frankly.

Something in Spike’s face softened, changed. Buffy rarely allowed him to play the role of the strong one. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, in an intimate gesture she’d rarely allowed in the past. Now, she leaned into him, resting her head back against his shoulder.

They stood there like that, not speaking. Spike allowed the peace of the moment to sink into his soul. For the first time since returning from Africa, he believed that it might work. That this might be where he belonged. That he might discover who he was. “I think this might work.”

Buffy felt a weight lift from her shoulders with the knowledge that Spike wasn’t going anywhere. She touched the hand that rested on her shoulder. “I know it will.”

They kissed then, in the darkness, under the moon, and the night was full of promise.

_As rivers seek the sea,  
Much more deep than they,  
So my soul seeks thee  
Far away;  
As running rivers moan  
On their course alone,  
So I moan  
Left alone._

_As the delicate rose  
To the sun’s sweet strength  
Doth herself unclose,  
Breadth and length;  
So spreads my heart to thee  
Unveiled utterly,  
I to thee  
Utterly._

_As morning dew exhales  
Sunwards pure and free  
So my spirit fails  
After thee.  
As dew leaves not a trace  
On the green earth’s face;  
I, no trace  
On thy face._

_Its goal the river knows,  
Dewdrops find a way,  
Sunlight cheers the rose  
In her day:  
Shall I, lone sorrow past,  
Find thee at the last?  
Sorrow past,  
Thee at last?_

_~Christina Rossetti, “Confluents”_


End file.
